


Mad World: All of Me

by crimsonglass



Series: Mad World [2]
Category: General Hospital
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 162,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonglass/pseuds/crimsonglass
Summary: Set Summer 2003. Jason and Elizabeth are trying to put the last year behind them and look towards the future. As Elizabeth slowly recovers physically and emotionally from her marriage to Ric, she and Jason begin to build a life together.A serial rapist is stalking Port Charles, leaving his young victims near park fountains in a violent echo of Elizabeth’s own rape years earlier. Elizabeth believes her attacker is safely locked away, but Jason is keeping a secret that could destroy her hard-won security.Then, the rapist strikes close to home — a daughter of one of the leading families in Port Charles. Is Elizabeth’s rapist still out there? Can the PCPD find him before he strikes again?





	1. Chapter Twenty

**Author's Note:**

> This story picks up about a week after Book One, Break Me Down, ended. New chapters are posted Mondays & Thursdays.

**Chapter Twenty**

_As the smoke clears, I awaken_  
_And untangle you from me_  
_Would it make you, feel better_  
_To watch me while I bleed?_  
_All my windows still are broken_  
_But I'm standing on my feet_  
\- Skyscraper, Demi Lovato

* * *

_Wednesday, July 9, 2003_

**Lansing House: Driveway**

Jason put the SUV into park and switched off the ignition. Neither he nor Elizabeth reached for their door handles.

“I can have someone come in and get your things,” Jason said after a moment. He looked at her, but her eyes were still staring straight ahead at the garage door. “Monica would do it for you—Bobbie—”

“I can do this,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. “It’s just…I don’t know. I just got out of the hospital yesterday.”

“We could wait,” Jason told her. “But—”

“But Scott told me Ric has another bail hearing tomorrow and he might be released this time. Yeah, I know. I just want this part of my life over with.” She exhaled slowly. “Okay. Let’s go ahead.”

She reached for her handle and heard Jason get out of the car on his own side. She was unsurprised when he quickly strode around the front of the car and pulled her door open before she could do it for herself. She had worked hard to get her strength and stamina back during the last week, but she still tired easily and Jason had been very worried about her doing too much too soon.

“Jason—” She started to say but then just sighed and let him help her out of the SUV. It was a step down and she was occasionally still a bit dizzy when she stood up. “If you don’t let me do things for myself, I’m never going to get my energy back.” But she softened her words with a smile—she knew how very close she’d come to losing her life and how hard it had been for him to watch it.

“I know,” he admitted. He stepped back and she closed the car door. “I’m working on it.”

It was a warm day but cool in the shadows, and Elizabeth felt the goosebumps rise as she stepped onto the porch out of the sun. Mail had been shoved into the box hanging next to the door until it no longer fit, then had started to pile up on the mat in front of the door. She stared down at it, then raised her eyes to the door.

She really didn’t want to open it.

Jason picked up the mail that had been on the ground and held it in his hands. “I could call Monica,” he offered again.

“I never saw it—the panic room, I mean,” she murmured. She reached into her purse and took out the silver key she had already removed from the key chain. She slid it into the lock and pushed the door open.

The panic room had always been there, opposite of the door, though Elizabeth had not known it. Every time she had walked through this door, Carly had been locked just behind the wall in front of her.

The panic room had been dismantled—the entrance now a gaping dark hole in front of them with the sliding door removed. “I barely remember pressing the button,” Elizabeth said softly. She set the key down on the table and watched as Jason set the mail down next to it. He returned to the mailbox and retrieved the rest.

“I didn’t see it either,” he told her. Their eyes met. “I knew something was wrong—I came in—and you were on the floor.”

She touched him, sliding her fingers down the soft skin of his forearm, then pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “It seems like a dream now—that day. How much happened in just…a few hours.”

They both looked at the panic room, and without discussing it, walked across the room. Elizabeth stayed behind while Jason went inside.

The dual rows of small television screens were on the far side—across from a cot where the remains of a chain was still attached to the wall. A small refrigerator was tucked under the table in front of the screens. On the opposite side of the cot stood a set of sturdy metal shelves, all of which were empty now. Their contents probably taken in as evidence.

Elizabeth knew from her conversations with Scott and Taggert that Ric had kept a lock box there with unlabeled bottles of pills. Not just Valium and birth control, but stronger sedatives. She didn’t know if Ric had ever used them.

She didn’t want to know.

Jason stared down for a long time at the cot, a thin mattress laid over a metal structure. At the chain that had been clasped around Carly’s ankle.

“Let’s get your things and get out of here,” Jason said after a long moment. He walked past her and headed for the stairs.

Everything Elizabeth had brought to the house could be packed into a single suitcase and small cardboard box. When Jason saw the small pile of possessions and frowned at it, she merely sighed. “I kept telling myself I’d bring the rest of it from my studio or get the things from my grandmother’s house out of storage. I put it off. And then obviously, after last week…”

He wouldn’t let her carry anything down the stairs, but Elizabeth counted herself lucky he’d allowed her to walk up them at all. He watched her, though, warily, as she slowly descended.

“Can you take that to the car? I just want to go through this stack and make sure nothing is mine.” She gestured to the mail on the table. “Ric put in a change of address for me when we moved. I already canceled it, but things might have come through.”

Jason hesitated. “I’ll wait until you’re done. We’ll go together.” He scanned the room. “I know he’s in jail, but I just—” He paused. “I don’t want you alone in this house. I know that sounds—”

“It doesn’t,” she interrupted. She started to flick through the letters—most of it was junk mail and advertisements from local stores. A battered envelope with her name scrawled—and misspelled—across the front looked as though it had been sent on from her grandmother’s address, then to her studio before finally arriving here.

“This is the only thing that’s mine,” Elizabeth said. She intended to tuck it in the box—maybe open it later back at her new condo—but the return address caught her attention. Pentonville State Prison. She bit her lip. “It’s from the prison.”

“Yeah?” Jason set her suitcase down and joined her, looking at the envelope over her shoulder. “Do you know anyone—”

Elizabeth had already opened the envelope and unfolded the letter before she remembered who exactly she knew in Pentonville. She released the paper violently, flinging it away—it floated in the air for a second before falling to the ground at her feet.

She’d already seen the signature.

Jason reached for it. “Elizabeth—”

“I don’t want to see it,” she snapped. She tore the paper out of his hands, crumpled it up and flung it away—turning before she could see it land just beside the box of her things. “It’s from Tom Baker.”

“Tom Baker—the photographer who—” Jason snapped his mouth closed. “Why would he write you?”

“I forgot—” Elizabeth sighed. “Emily got a postcard from the parole board that he was—he’s up for parole in December, and she told me about it. He probably wants to make sure I don’t show up at his hearing.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to read it. I don’t—I can’t have him in my head right now—” Of course he already _was_, but Elizabeth shoved it aside, ruthlessly ripping the envelope into small pieces and dumping them in the wastebasket next to the desk.

“Okay,” Jason said again. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked her, and she appreciated him for not pushing the subject. Not even commenting on it.

She started to say no, then saw the wooden handle of her bat sticking out of the umbrella stand. “Just this,” Elizabeth said. She pulled it out and showed it to him. “I don’t want to leave this behind.” She looked around the room—at the house where she’d nearly died—and shook her head. “There’s nothing else. Let’s get out of here. I never want to see this place again.”

Her bat in hand, Elizabeth left—leaving her key behind on the table. Jason picked up her suitcase and with his other hand, started to reach for the edge of the cardboard box when he saw the letter crumpled up next to it.

Without examining why he did it, Jason picked up the crumbled ball, shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, picked up the box and followed her out.

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Scott flipped through some paperwork and handed a copy to the mayor. “Mac already has this, but you should be happy to know that not only are arrests up fifty percent in the last seven days, but Major Crimes at the DA’s office has obtained pleas in about half of the open cases on the dockets.”

Floyd studied Scott’s report with a murmur. “Did your office put together a press release with these numbers? The _Herald_ is still chewing out the PCPD, and in the last editorial, _I_ was name dropped.”

“Can’t have that,” Mac said dryly. “The media liaison sent this over to the _Herald_, but they said they’ve already got their story for tomorrow.”

Scott got to his feet and shrugged. “Can’t do anything but what we’re doing now. I have a meeting, so…” He left them, closing the office door behind him.

Floyd stared after the district attorney with barely veiled malevolence. “Did you know _his_ popularity numbers are through the roof? What if he tries to run for mayor? The deadline isn’t until the end of the month—”

“Do you ever think about anything other than elections?” Mac demanded as he sorted through paperwork on his desk and considered the rest of his afternoon. He really wanted to get out of here and have dinner with the girls.

“Watch the tone, Scorpio. I may not be able to fire Baldwin but I sure as hell can fire you,” Floyd reminded him, standing up, folding Scott’s report and tucking it inside his blazer.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to do that.” Mac also rose with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Do you really want to fire me right now when Elizabeth Webber is probably being counseled to file charges against this department and the city?”

Floyd scowled. “Do you think anyone is going to care about what happened to a rape case five years ago?” He snorted. “We _both_ made that choice, Scorpio. Don’t pretend that you didn’t agree.”

“Situation’s different now. She’s not just some minor victim who may or may not matter to the Quartermaines.” Mac tilted his head. “Does Edward Quartermaine know just who you sacrificed to make sure Tom Baker pay?”

“He didn’t know the specifics, but we all got what we needed. Baker went to jail.” Floyd shrugged. “We made a strategic decision—”

“If and when Elizabeth sues this department for slander and reckless endangerment, the first thing any lawyer is going to do is subpoena any files with her involvement,” Mac told him. “If Justus remains her lawyer, do you think he’s not going to notice we didn’t follow protocol?”

“Then I guess Elizabeth Webber better not sue us.” Floyd went for the door, then turned back. “Your contract expired in May, didn’t it? You’re working at will for the department.”

Mac hesitated. “What about it?”

“The best thing for everyone is if certain truths never came out. It won’t give Elizabeth Webber any peace to know what happened in her case.” Floyd opened the door. “I’ll look over these numbers.”

The mayor left and Mac sat back at his desk, exhaling slowly. He’d always been ashamed of succumbing to political pressure when Elizabeth’s rape case had had an actual suspect to investigate, but he’d told himself that Baker had gone to jail more quickly, and Elizabeth needed the closure.

He wasn’t so sure anymore that he’d done the right thing.

**Kelly** **’s: Dining Room**

Dillon sipped his iced tea and sent his girlfriend of exactly one month a bright smile. She just glared at him, whipped the towel from her apron and bent over to clean a recently vacated table.

“You’re still frosty. Okay, I get it.”

“Why do the Quartermaines always have to be our problem?” Georgie demanded. Her brown eyes crackled with irritation. “Why can’t they just stay on Harborview Road and wallow in their drama away from the rest of us normal people?”

“First, I’m a Quartermaine, so hey. Second, I think you’re overreacting—”

“Overreacting?” Georgie sucked in a breath. “Overreacting? First Maxie, now you. What the hell?”

Oh, that explains how chilly Georgie had been even before Dillon had arrived. Nothing pissed Georgiana Jones off like her elder—by two years—sister, Maxie.

“What did Maxie do now?” Dillon asked, and winced because even_ he_ could hear how annoyed he was.

“She’s still dating that idiot Kyle, and every time Kyle comes within ten feet of Lucas, Lucas threatens to kick his ass and it’s just so—” Georgie grumbled. “It’s _annoying_. I don’t know what Maxie sees in Kyle.”

“I don’t know. He was a complete asshole, but he did apologize—”

“And that makes what he did right?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. Her raised voice brought the attention of the diner’s few indoor patrons, but she just glared right back at them.

“No, it just makes it _Maxie__’s_ decision,” Dillon said as Georgie went back around the counter. “If you and Lucas left her alone, she’d probably lose interest faster.” He offered her another smile—this one with the dimples—but nothing was working.

“So they had a huge fight on the way here, and of course, Lucas decided to skip out on his shift which he gets to do since he’s the owner’s kid and now I’m covering for him—”

“At least it’s not that busy.”

“_Stop_ trying to cheer me up!” Georgie said with an actual stamp of her foot. “You’re part of the problem. You get here and tell me that Tammy has agreed to hire Satan’s baby—”

“C’mon, Brooke isn’t that bad.” At Georgie’s disbelieving look, he hurried to correct himself. “I mean, yes, there have been some temper tantrums, but she’s been trying lately.”

“So the bitchiness comes naturally—”

“Hey. Georgie. C’mon. She feels like her mother dumped her here because she got tired of her, and her father was barely ever around growing up.” He raised his brows. “Does she sound like anyone else you know?”

Georgie sighed, but her pretty chocolate eyes had softened and he knew he had her. “I don’t need someone else here who isn’t pulling their weight. After Elizabeth and Courtney quit, Penny is like the most experienced waitress and she’s an idiot. It’s basically me, and I’m twelve.”

“Seventeen.”

“Whatever.” Georgie poured him a refill of iced tea. “Okay. I’ll give her a chance because I know what it’s like to have parental drama. But she makes fun of my hair once and she and I are going to have a fight.”

“You’re the best girlfriend,” Dillon declared. “Because if Brooke is happy, then Ned is happy, and then he leaves me alone. That makes me happy. So you’re really doing this for me.”

“Mm…” Georgie sent him a suspicious glare but returned to her work.

**General Hospital: Gail** **’s Office**

“It was weird,” Elizabeth admitted as she accepted the herbal tea that Gail constantly pressed on her during their sessions. “To be back in that house after everything that happened. To see the panic room.” She shook her head. “Sometimes, it’s hard to believe it happened at all.”

“It does seem rather fantastical,” Gail admitted. “How is your new condo?”

“Good. I like it. It’s one bedroom, but it has a great view and gets good light, so if I ever feel like painting again, I’ll be ready. Emily furnished the entire thing as a divorce gift.” Elizabeth managed a half smile. “I decided not to argue with her.”

“Is it getting easier accepting help?” Gail asked.

“Sometimes. I guess.” Elizabeth hesitated. “I was having some nightmares in the hospital. Are you…did my grandmother tell you that I had some issues last year?”

“She came and she asked me what I would recommend for someone having anxiety issues and panic attacks after being trapped in the dark.” Gail pursed her lips. “I gave her some ideas, but I encouraged her to bring that someone in.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t ready, I guess. I had some nightmares—like I did after the crypt. Just…being trapped in the panic room.”

“That’s natural, I would think. Are you still having them?”

“Oh. No, I did the breathing exercises and stuff you told Gram about last year. But, I, um, told Carly. Because she’s dealing with the same thing. I never really told anyone.” She looked away. “I haven’t had a panic attack since last October, so I’m probably in the clear.”

“You’ve been through a great deal of trauma lately, Elizabeth. I wouldn’t rule anything out, but if you’re taking the right steps, I wouldn’t put it high on your list of worries.” Gail waited a moment. “Have you told Jason?”

“No.” She shook her head. “There really isn’t a need to tell him, Gail. I mean, it’s over. I did it. And I don’t want him to have another reason to worry about me—”

“I only suggest it because some of the symptoms—as you might remember—aren’t always detectable by the person experiencing them.”

“Like that day in the hospital,” Elizabeth murmured, remembering. “I’d had a follow-up to remove my stitches. And something—I don’t know—I got trapped in the elevator. It was in the middle of that horrible storm and the power went out. It was so dark and I was panicking. I kept—I was looking at my phone…” She stared down at her hands. “I wanted to call Jason.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. He’d…made it clear that we needed to be away from each other, and I just—I didn’t want him to see me being weak. When I got out the elevator—I don’t remember what happened next. Gram said she found me wandering all glassy-eyed—” She closed her eyes. “She could have used the ASD to berate Jason and make it about her being right. But she didn’t. She was just worried.”

“She loved you very much, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, I know that. I loved her, too. I miss her so much. I don’t know if all of this would have happened if—if she was still here.” Elizabeth struggled to take a deep breath. Her chest felt so heavy and it was still hard to fully expand her lungs. “If she’d been here, I could have—I think I would have told her when I got pregnant. I wouldn’t have felt so scared and alone.” She closed her eyes. “I wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t feel that. Couldn’t see it.

“I, um, guess I should tell Jason what happened, but it’s—” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip, scraping it almost raw. “He’s so…worried right now. It’s hard for him to let me out of his sight. He’s in the lobby waiting for me. I get it. I almost died, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He hates hospitals, and he really hates feeling powerless.” She closed her eyes. “And maybe it should bother me the way he’s hovering. But I don’t…it doesn’t feel like he doesn’t think I can do anything. It’s not like before.”

“No?”

“No. It’s…it’s like he knows I’m going to try to do much. That I won’t stop when I should. Because I’m too stubborn.” She managed a smile. “And he’s really worried after what happened this morning at the house. I got a letter…from Tom Baker.”

Gail drew in a sharp breath. “Tom Baker.”

“Yeah, um, Emily told me last winter she got a letter warning her that he was up for parole in September. I guess he’s thinking about that—maybe he thinks I’ll come to the hearing and try to derail it. “

“You guess?”

“I didn’t read it. I couldn’t. I can’t have him in my head. Though I guess he’s already there.” Elizabeth shifted in her seat. “It’s just something else I don’t really have the energy for, you know? I know what I can handle, and bringing the worst thing that happened to me—outside of this—”

“That’s fair, Elizabeth.” Gail pursed her lips. “So, it’s time to talk about your homework. How have your assignments been going?”

“Well, I did what you told me and I unpacked my art supplies first. It was nice—Nikolas bought me a new set of brushes—a really nice set—he said it was a divorce gift. I feel like he and Emily are conspiring against me. And Jason is going to stretch a bunch of canvases for me.” She smiled, a genuine one that she felt down to her toes. “He’s good at that. I don’t know if I’ll be ready to paint, but when I am, I’m set up.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. And it’s lovely that your friends are helping you find your inspiration again. Now for this week, I want you to think about telling Jason about what happened last summer.”

“Because of the symptoms?” Elizabeth asked.

“Because you didn’t want him to think you were weak and that’s why you didn’t tell him. Because part of you still thinks that’s true,” Gail said softly. “I can see it, Elizabeth, I can hear it. You know he doesn’t think you’re weak now. But I’m not sure you convinced he _didn__’t_ think that last year.”

She exhaled slowly. “And…what does that do for me? I mean, _I_ know I wasn’t weak. That should be enough.”

“Is it?”

Elizabeth managed half a scowl but sighed. “I’ll think about it. It’s just that Jason and I have done nothing but think about the past and I just…I want to be done with it. I want to think about the future.”

“Then be done with the past, Elizabeth,” Gail told her. She closed her notebook and set it aside. “I didn’t tell you to do it. I just want you to think about _why_ you won’t tell him and to consider doing so. Whatever decision you reach will be right for you.”

**General Hospital: Lobby**

Elizabeth stepped off the elevator, and Jason immediately got to his feet. Her eyes weren’t rimmed with red and he couldn’t detect any tear stains on her cheeks so it looked as it had been a less intense session. He knew they were helping but hated that she often looked drained and exhausted afterward.

“Hey.” He slid his arm around her shoulder and tugged her close as he kissed her, long and slow—he couldn’t believe he could do this now—that she was back in his life.

“Mmm…what was that for?” Elizabeth asked as she drew back, her voice a bit husky. “It was only an hour.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, linking her fingers at the small of his back.”What do I get if I’m gone longer?”

He managed half a smile. “Is that a dig at me not letting you out of my sight for more than an hour at a time?”

“I would _never_.” But she smiled and kissed him again. “C’mon, I want to get out of this place.”

As they walked towards the parking garage entrance, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket, careful not to dislodge the crumpled up paper in his pocket. “It’s Sonny.”

He answered his partner’s call and grimaced after a moment. “Okay, yeah, I’ll be in. I just have to drop Elizabeth off at her place.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “I’m sorry, I gotta put in a few hours at the warehouse.”

“Considering you’ve barely been to work since Carly went missing, I can’t really argue.” They stepped on the elevator. “Hey, Monica caught me on my way down. She said I’m clear to drive again.” She slid him a look from beneath her eyelashes. “You want to go somewhere after work?”

“I don’t think Monica meant you were cleared to drive a motorcycle,” Jason said dryly. They had exchanged the SUV for Jason’s bike after unpacking things at her condo. He handed her a helmet. “But yeah. I’ll call you if I’m going to be too long.”

**Luke** **’s: Bar**

Lucky set a shot in front of one of his regular patrons and smirked when he saw a familiar brunette slide into the stool at the quieter side of the bar. He’d met the new Assistant District Attorney Kelsey Joyce at work a few weeks ago, but for the last week she’d shown up at Luke’s nearly every time he was scheduled to work the bar.

“Back again?” he asked, setting a napkin in front of her. “You like jazz?” he asked over his shoulder as he turned to grab the bottle of gin she favored.

“You know, I’ve never really understood it,” Kelsey said with a shrug. “I get that a lot of people like it, but it just sounds like noise to me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t this more of a blues club?”

“Nominally.” Lucky set her drink in front of her. “That was my dad’s vision when he opened it. B.B. King played opening night. But it’s a night club in upstate New York. We’ll let anyone in who wants to play.”

“This is exactly what I need after a day like today,” she said after a long sip of her drink. She closed her eyes. “Did you have to work today?”

“Yeah, mostly finishing up paperwork for Lansing.” Lucky leaned against the bar back, folding his arms. “Taggert and Mac are determined not to screw this up. Which would be nice, all things considered.”

“Scott feels the same way. He feels bad about what happened—” Kelsey frowned. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“You grimace when I mention Scott. This isn’t the first time you’ve done that—” She hesitated. “Is—is it about your mom?”

“How—” Lucky scowled. “How do you know about that case?”

“I looked over all the open cases when I took over Major Crimes. Rick Webber’s murder is still an open file.” Kelsey hesitated. “I mean, until your mother is released from the hospital in London and it gets officially discharged.”

“I—” He stared at her. Swallowed. “I thought that was done.”

“Your mother was found not competent to stand trial,” Kelsey said, tilting her head slightly. “Once she is, I’ll revisit the case and see if it’s worth filing charges—”

“Wait—” Lucky shook his head. “She had a psychotic break—”

She bit her lip, glanced around her as if to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but honestly? I don’t plan to do anything with the case. The scene got screwed up, your mother didn’t confess on record. And I know Scott’s behavior during all of it was awful. He thought your dad did it, and went after your mother for protecting him.”

“So if you know all of that, why do you ask why I make a face when you talk about him?” Lucky went to the other end of the bar to fill an order.

When he returned, he continued, “Look, you want to come in here when I’m working, sit at my bar, talk—that’s all fine.” He folded his arms and leaned over the bar. Leaned in close until their faces were a few inches apart. She smirked. Lifted a brow. “But Baldwin is not something I want to talk about—”

“We work together. All of us. How are we supposed to…” Her smile deepened. “Talk—if we can’t talk about our day?”

“Oh, talking is what you’re interested in doing?” When Kelsey only continued to smile at him, Lucky’s stomach clenched. It had been…a _long_ time since he’d felt even mildly interested in a woman.

“We should probably start there.” Kelsey’s eyes dropped to his mouth for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “But I don’t want to pretend I do something else for a living.”

“Fair enough.” Lucky straightened and pulled back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dante walk through the front door, a younger brunette following him, talking animatedly. Her eyes were heavily lined, her lips painted with a deep slash of red, and she wore a lot of chunky jewelry.

Kelsey followed his gaze and frowned. “Isn’t she underage?” she asked. “I’ve seen her at Kelly’s.”

“Yo, Falconieri, you trying to get my license pulled?” Lucky called as his friend sat down next to Kelsey, the girl sliding onto the stool on his other side.

“Just don’t serve her,” Dante offered with a shrug. “This is Brooke Lynn Ashton, my god sister from Bensonhurst.”

“God sister?” Kelsey repeated. “Is that even a thing?”

“We take it very seriously back in the neighborhood,” Brooke offered. She jerked a thumb in Dante’s direction. “Plus, this guy got a call from my ma asking why he hasn’t checked up on me like he promised.”

“They _always_ know,” Dante said, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Ma has a GPS on my ass. Anyway.” He looked at Brooke. “You come in here, you don’t mess around. Lucky’s a friend of mine. You take that underage drinking to the other dives around town, got it?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Like he never bought me any forties back home,” she muttered. “Anyway. I only got caught _once_—”

“Do you want something to drink?” Lucky asked, raising his voice slightly as the night’s featured jazz band began their first song. “Water? Lemonade?”

“God, this town is boring,” Brooke sighed. “Can I get a soda? Dr. Pepper if you have it.”

“Sure.” Lucky turned around to fill the drink.

“This is Kelsey Joyce, the new ADA in Major Crimes.” Dante leaned back so Kelsey could shake Brooke’s hand. “She’s going to clean up the filthy streets of Port Charles.”

Kelsey snorted. “Sure. Because _that__’s_ a thing someone fresh out of law school can do. What does it say about this town that five minutes after I pass the bar, the DA puts me in charge of the entire Major Crimes division?”

“Yeah, but good news—” Lucky folded his arms and grinned at her. “You can’t possibly be worse than what’s come before.”

Kelsey arched a brow and sipped her drink, before turning back to Brooke. “What brings two Bensonhurst kids to Port Charles anyway?”

“My ma married a guy from here,” Brooke offered. “She lived here for a little while before they got divorced. She got irritated with me, shipped me up here so my dad can deal with me.” She peered at Dante. “I’m less clear on how _you_ ended up here. Why aren’t you making time in the NYPD?”

“You work in a large department like New York, you gotta be in uniform for five years before you can take the detective exam. But I heard that Port Charles only makes you do uniform for two.” Dante shrugged. “Plus, my know my cousin Vinnie? He came up here in ‘95 for the same reasons. Your ma recommended it.”

“Two years?” Kelsey repeated. She blinked and looked at Lucky who just shrugged. “You only have to do _two_ years on the street before you qualify for detective? That explains a lot.”

“How’s Port Charles treating you?” Lucky asked Brooke. “You’re staying with your dad, so I guess you’ve been hanging out with Dillon and my sister.”

“Dillon, yes, Lu, no. She went to London before I decided to give Dillon a chance. I’m actually starting at Kelly’s this week,” she told Dante. “Dad thinks it’ll be good for me and I can earn my phone and car privileges back.” She shrugged. “We’ll see. But I’m glad you called, Dante.” She bumped a shoulder against him. “It’s good to see a friendly face.”

“Grab your drink,” Dante told her. “We’ll go get a table closer to the band. Brooke’s an incredible singer. You should get her to do a set here.”

“Dante,” Brooke hissed, smacking him as the duo left the bar and worked their way to the front of the club.

“You know, if the rest of the PCPD were like the three of you,” Kelsey told Lucky once they had gone, “this job might not suck so much.” She picked up the second gin and tonic he put in front of her. “Back to the subject of our illustrious DA—”

“Kelsey—”

“I read the file, Lucky. I know he bungled the case.” She shook her head. “What’s more—he _knows_ it, too. He’s trying to do better. I mean, you guys got along on the Lansing case. And he did good work—don’t roll your eyes. He did. He got his ass handed to him in court over Elizabeth’s medical care.”

“Look—”

“Do you really think that Scott is one hundred percent to blame for what happened to your mother?” Kelsey asked. She raised her eyebrows. “What about the stepfather who lied to her? Or the ex-husband who took her on the run rather than getting her help—”

Lucky grimaced, looked away. “Okay, fine. Nikolas said that my mother’s breakdown was about a lifetime of trauma. And maybe Baldwin isn’t the only bad guy in all of that. But—” he shrugged and moved to refill the mug of another customer. “He’s here. And the rest of people who hurt her aren’t.”

“Fair enough.” Kelsey waited a long moment. “But we can still be friends, right?”

“Yeah.” Lucky smiled at her. “Yeah, we can still be friends.”

**Corinthos-Morgan Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office**

Sonny was scowling at Johnny O’Brien when Jason came into the office later that night. “That’s not the answer I was looking for.” He nodded at Jason, then jerked a thumb at the other man. “He’s telling me that security is still tight at the county jail.”

Jason grimaced as he sat down in front of Sonny’s desk, stretched out his legs and cracked his neck. They’d been trying to find a way to get to Ric Lansing since he’d been arrested and held without bail a week earlier, but the cops had kept him in protective custody.

Why the hell they were protecting such a scumbag, Jason couldn’t understand. He thought Elizabeth and Carly would sleep easier once they were able to take care of him. “He’s got a bail hearing coming up. They’ll have to move him—”

“We can try to get someone to get him in transport,” Johnny suggested. “But there’s a lot of eyes on this case, Boss.”

“Scott Baldwin probably wants the good press of nailing him in court,” Sonny muttered. He sighed. “Carly hasn’t talked much about the bail hearing. Has Elizabeth? Does she know the chances he might be released?”

“She’s hoping he won’t be,” Jason admitted. “Baldwin told her it was a fifty fifty thing. It’s not a murder case but it’s still a felony. Depends on the judge. It’d be easier to get him if he was out on bail, but—”

“PCPD would have jurisdiction, not the county police, if he dies on the outside.” Sonny looked at Johnny. “Keep trying to find someone—”

“Got it,” Johnny said. He left then, and Sonny turned his attention to Jason.

“Elizabeth get settled in the condo all right?” Sonny asked. “The security upgrade was done in time?”

“Yeah.” Jason leaned to one side to tug his phone from his back pocket, a ball of paper falling to the floor as he did so. He stared at it for a moment, remembering where he’d found it.

“I also wanted to let you know that you, ah, might want to avoid my place for a few weeks. Courtney wasn’t able to get back into her lease at the loft—” Sonny frowned. “Jase?”

“I—” Jason leaned over to grab the paper from the floor. He left it in the palm of his hand. “I forgot. Tom Baker sent a letter to Elizabeth. She threw it away, but—” He shook his head. “I picked it up. Kept it.”

“Tom Baker,” Sonny repeated. He squinted. “That was before I moved back, right? The asshole who went after your sister?”

“Yeah.” Jason cleared his throat. “Emily was being blackmailed by a photographer. Emily and her friends—including Elizabeth—tracked him down and he was supposed to have confessed to—” He paused, forcing the words out, “—raping Elizabeth earlier that year.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sonny murmured, sitting back in his chair, looking a bit shell shocked. “I knew what had happened to her—but I didn’t realize they’d caught the guy—”

“They didn’t. I mean, Baker denied making the confession, and the cops told Elizabeth there wasn’t enough evidence to go forward. They just prosecuted him for the blackmail, and then I guess Elizabeth had…she had a break down in court. Accused him—the DA’s office made him a deal to get at least some jail time. I don’t—I don’t know a lot of the specifics.” Jason exhaled slowly.

He looked at the crumbled ball in his hands. “Elizabeth didn’t want to read it. I guess I thought she might change her mind—”

“Did _you_ read it—?”

“No.” Jason looked at his friend. “No. If there was something in there—I don’t know. She didn’t want to read it. It’s not mine to read.” He clenched his fist, the paper rustling as it was compressed. “She’s been through so much. I just didn’t want anything to come out and surprise her. Hurt her.” He shook his head. “He's up for parole in a few months. I went to see him before I left town that first time—to remind him to stay away from Emily…and Elizabeth.”

“Maybe it’s time pay him another visit,” Sonny suggested. “Remind him who might be waiting on the outside if he comes anywhere near her.” He shook his head. “Don’t tell Elizabeth if you go.”

“What?” Jason frowned. “Why not—”

“Hey. Look, she didn’t even want to read the damn letter which is probably nothing more than asking her not to show up at his parole hearing. She doesn’t want this in her head. I know you can’t sit back and ignore this letter, but there’s no reason she needs to know.”

“Yeah.” Jason shoved the letter back in his pocket, then scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah. You’re right. She doesn’t need this. I’ll keep him away from her, and we’ll just…we’ll focus on finding a way to get rid of Lansing. For good.”


	2. Chapter Twenty-One

_There has to be a change I'm sure_  
_Today was just a day fading into another_  
_And that can't be what a life is for_  
_And anything she said well she feels a lot better_  
_And that's all that really matters to me_  
\- Amy Hit the Atmosphere, Counting Crows

* * *

_Friday, July 11, 2003_

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

Elizabeth winced as she heard another crash behind the counter. She looked at Bobbie who just shook her head. “Really brings back memories, doesn’t it?” she murmured as she lifted her cup of tea to her lips.

“You weren’t the worst waitress we ever had.” Bobbie flinched as another crash came. She twisted in her seat to see Brooke Lynn Ashton pop up from behind the counter, her face flushed, and several pieces of broken dishes in her hands.

Nearby, Penny Ramirez only sighed and grabbed a plastic tub.

Elizabeth watched the scene wistfully. “A few years ago, that was me. And last summer, I was training the new waitresses.” She pursed her lips. “You looking to hire? I could use a job.”

“I think we can find something better for you.” Bobbie stirred some sugar into her coffee. “I thought you were taking some time off. Trying to relax. Are you even cleared to go back to work?”

“In a few weeks. Monica wanted me to wait a full month.” Elizabeth sighed. “It’s not like Gram and Gramps didn’t leave enough to support me for a while. And I just got the check with my portion from the sale of their house, so I’m okay. I just…I need something to do.”

“Well, Kelly’s will be here if you need it.” Bobbie tilted her head. “Did I ever tell you why Ruby didn’t fire you?”

“Oh, God. She must have wanted to a thousand times that first six months. I was the absolute worst waitress.” Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ears. “But Ruby never gave up on me.”

“She said you reminded her of me at that age. Running wild, never listening to anyone, doing everything you could to get yourself in trouble.” Bobbie hesitated. “But you showed up to do the job and she saw you trying. She wanted to keep an eye on you. To give you something to hold on to.”

“I miss her so much. I mean, I know Don tries with the chili, but it won’t ever be the same.” Elizabeth propped her hand on her chin. “How’s Carly doing? I haven’t seen her since I got home.”

“She’s doing okay, I guess. I’m glad she went to see Kevin, but there are still some…rough moments. She’ll do better when the trial is over.”

Elizabeth looked at her watch. “The bail hearing is probably wrapping up. Do you think he’s going to get released?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could predict what the courts will do.” Bobbie paused. “Are you worried?”

“About my safety? Not really. Um, the condo building Nikolas found is relatively secure. And Jason doesn’t know I know this, but I think he either bought the building or put some of his guys in there, because I recognize some of the security guards in the lobby.” She chewed her bottom lip. “And it’s not like I’m sharing a house with him, so I don’t know. I guess I just…I’m with Carly. I want it over with.”

“You have the restraining order for a few more weeks, and I’m guessing this is probably the longest Jason has left you alone since you came home on Wednesday.” Bobbie lifted her brows. “He’s not smothering you, is he?”

“No.” Elizabeth’s lips curved. “Not yet. Today, I convinced him that I could handle being out with just Cody—” She gave a wave to her bodyguard who was drinking a coffee at the counter. “And that he needed to get back to work. To his regular life so we could figure out a new normal.”

“Carly told Sonny the same thing.” Bobbie smiled now. “They’ll relax eventually. It was just—I don’t have to tell you how terrified we all were while Carly was missing, but when you were in that coma—” She shook her head. “I can’t begin to tell you what was going on. Everything seemed to shift. To change. I saw Jason working with Nikolas to get that power of attorney back, Lucky and Scott were getting along—Scott gave Jason a character reference in court.”

“Scott Baldwin?” Elizabeth asked with a raise of her brows. “The PCPD really doesn’t want me to sue the city, do they?”

“I know Justus suggested you consider it,” Bobbie said. “The department really didn’t—”

“He suggested it, yeah, but he said we probably wouldn’t win. At best, I might get a settlement with an apology.” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, a jury is going to wonder why I stayed—”

“And then you explain it to them.” Bobbie leaned forward. “But you’re thinking of what they’ll ask about Jason.”

“Yeah, Diane Miller—she’s the one handling my divorce and restraining order—she said that Ric’s best bet is character assassination. Carly and I can testify about the panic room, but the order is about—” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know. We weren’t…we weren’t sleeping together, but that doesn’t change—” She bit her lip. “I don’t know how to explain that week—”

“An emotional affair,” Bobbie said with a slow exhale and a half smile. “I’ve had one or two of those myself. A close friendship that strays over the line just a few times. Where the intimacy and emotions are not platonic.” She paused. “Alan and I nearly…”

“Alan Quartermaine?’ Elizabeth repeated. “As in—”

“Monica had breast cancer, and she handled that the best way she knew how. But Alan was shut out, and I was struggling after BJ—so we just…drifted towards one another. We stopped ourselves before—I mean, we didn’t go full out, but it didn’t mean we hadn’t thought about it.” Bobbie shook her head. “I’m not proud, but I understand how a situation can…escalate.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably the best way to describe it. The fact that Jason and I are now…I guess dating is what we’re doing, but that just sounds weird…Diane thinks that’s going to come up at the hearing and in our divorce.”

“It doesn’t change the fact the Ric put his hands on you. That he nearly killed you.”

“You and I both know the world doesn’t always—” Elizabeth trailed off when she saw Lucky come through the doors, followed by another officer.

“Lucky.” Bobbie stood to kiss her nephew’s cheek. “And this is Dante, right? Dante…”

“Falconieri, ma’am.” He held out a hand for Bobbie to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Have you met Elizabeth, yet?” Bobbie asked, gesturing to Elizabeth who had also stood.

“Not in, um, person,” Dante said with a half-smile. “I was one of the officers who parked outside your place. And I was at the hospital a few times.”

“Right. I kind of remember you. Thank you. I felt a lot safer knowing you were out there.” She looked at Lucky who hadn’t met her eyes yet. “Look at you, in your uniform,” she said with a half-forced smile. “Who would have believed it?”

“No one,” Bobbie said with a laugh as she wrapped her hand around Lucky’s upper arm. “But I think it’s a good fit.”

“We just came by for coffee,” Lucky said, “but we got a call while we were in the courtyard.” He met Elizabeth’s eyes now. “Ric posted bail.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. Nodded. “Okay.” She looked at Cody who joined them. “Ric made bail,” she repeated to him.

“Brooke, why don’t you get these officers some coffee?” Bobbie called. “Uh…Penny, can you help her?”

Lucky kissed Bobbie’s cheek and then went to the counter with Dante. The other cop smiled at Brooke, said something to her—but Elizabeth didn’t hear it.

“You okay?” Cody asked, his voice low. She looked back at him. “Should I—”

“Yeah, you should call Jason because he and Sonny should both know. They need to tell Carly. But I’m okay.” She touched the sleeve of Cody’s suit jacket. “Really. I promise.”

“Okay.” Cody waited until Lucky and Dante had received their coffees and left before moving back to his seat and pulling out his phone.

Bobbie and Elizabeth sat back down, the air a bit more tense than it had been before. “Elizabeth…”

“Lucky seemed weird, didn’t he?” Elizabeth asked. “We haven’t really talked in months—not since October when I helped break Luke out of jail. But he just…I don’t know. He didn’t seem like himself.”

“I’ve noticed that he seems a bit…uncomfortable sometimes,” Bobbie admitted. “It’s hard to say. Lucky has been through so much in the last few years—and I wonder about that last brainwashing—before the wedding.”

“If maybe it was more than just taking away his love for me,” Elizabeth murmured with a tip of her head. “He seemed different after that, yeah. I can’t really explain it. I guess…it’s time to accept that part of Lucky never came back.”

“I know. Every time it seems like he’s finding his feet, he gets them pulled out again. But I have high hopes for this job. He’s made new friends—ones that didn’t know him before and I think that will help with the pressure.” Bobbie offered her a smile. “You’re both moving on. I’m so glad to see you both doing better.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Elizabeth said with a half-smile. “I’m okay. That’s the goal right now. To just wake up and be okay. Better…that comes later.”

**Kelly** **’s: Dining Room**

“Well, that’s the lunch rush,” Penny told Brooke with a bright smile. “Georgie is going to take over for me.” She hung her apron up on the hook and headed out the back door.

“Couldn’t wait to leave me,” Brooke muttered as Dillon’s girlfriend sighed, tying her apron.

“Don’t mind Penny. Her mind is always somewhere else.” Georgie glanced out in the dining room. “Just the one coffee drinker?”

“Yeah.” Brooke’s feet were killing her, but she’d promised Tammy that she’d work until six that evening. “Who’s working the closing?”

“Me and Maxie, even though Mac had to practically force her into it.” Georgie grimaced. “After Courtney quit, things were okay for a while because Liz was still here. She was here for years—but then she quit and that was two experienced waitresses in like five minutes. They’re still trying to replace them.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not much of an improvement.” Brooke bit her lip. “And you don’t even like me.”

“I don’t _know_ you, as Dillon reminded me.” Georgie hesitated. “And he reminded me that parents are universally awful so…”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with yours?” Brooke asked as she followed the blonde out to the counter where Georgie started to fill the coffee grinder with beans.

“Well, Dad works for the WSB and hasn’t really been around. I see him maybe once a year. Mom’s okay, but she has crappy priorities. She got married a few years ago to Mac, and then I don’t know what happened, but she ruined that. She’s in Texas with my great-grandmother, Mariah. Maxie and I are staying with Mac. He’s not our stepdad anymore, but he’s basically the only real dad we know.” She flicked her dark brown gaze at Brooke. “What’s your story?”

“Same thing with my dad, but he doesn’t have the excuse that he’s off saving the world,” Brooke said as she wrapped utensils in napkins. “He was just a few hours away and too busy to be my dad. And my mom is a real hard ass. Nothing is ever good enough for her. She forced me to go to college and then got pissed because I failed.” She wrinkled her nose. “And then sent me here because it was too hard to deal with me anymore, I guess.”

“It sucks when your parents aren’t together,” Georgie offered with a sigh. “I mean, look at Dillon. His dad is never around either and his mother is Tracy. I mean, she’s your grandmother. You can feel his pain.” She flashed a half smile. “We actually all have that in common—really shitty parents.”

“Yeah? No normal ones in the bunch at all?”

“Nope.” Georgie hit the button for the grinder and waited for it to finish before she spoke again. “Lucas comes close. He was adopted in a black-market baby ring, lived with Bobbie for a while before going back to his real mother, who then died and gave him back to Bobbie and Tony. Then Bobbie and Tony exploded, and they fought over him in court. His dad ended up having an affair with his stepdaughter, but no one knew Carly was related to Bobbie yet.”

She expertly set the filters into the pot and filled each pot with coffee grounds. “Maxie has my story, only she fights with Mac all the time. Lu’s mom had a nervous breakdown and went crazy, and her dad is a functioning alcoholic. There’s Kyle, but I’m not sure we’re really adopting him into the circle yet.”

Brooke raised her brows. “Maybe there’s something in the water here.”

“Seriously,” Georgie snorted. “Kyle’s actually normal because his parents are just divorced, still live in Port Charles, and then dragged him into court every year until last year when he turned eighteen. But he’s an asshole, so he doesn’t count.”

She took a deep breath and looked at Brooke. “I’m sorry your mom shoved you up here, but if you give us a chance, maybe it won’t suck so much.”

“Yeah, that’s what Dillon said. He said you and Lucas were okay, Maxie was a pain, and he’s not convinced what sort Kyle is yet.” She laughed. “And apparently, Lulu is crazy.”

“That sums it up. C’mon, let me show you how to fill out the tickets because Penny’s way isn’t right.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Justus slid his finger over the amount at the bottom of the retainer agreement Sonny had handed him. “This is…a lot of money.”

“I know you said you weren’t interested in leaving Philadelphia, and I get that you’ve got a new baby. A wife.” Perched on Jason’s green sofa, Sonny leaned forward. “And there’s no hard feelings if you decline. I just wanted to make sure you knew how much we valued you. How much you saved our asses.”

Justus waited a long moment. “I’d have to talk this over with Tia. I appreciate it, Sonny. I’m not saying no because of the work. Her family is in Philly. Some of mine is—you know both my sisters are there, Keesha and Faith.”

“And Port Charles has the Quartermaines, so believe me, I get the purpose of distance.” Sonny leaned back. “Go home, be with your family. Consider it. Thank you for these last few weeks. I know it was hard to be away from your family.”

“It was.” Justus flashed a smile and dug into his pocket. “Have you seen my girls? They’re everything.” He flipped open his wallet and held it out. Jason looked over Sonny’s shoulder at a beautiful smiling woman holding an infant in her arms.

“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?” Sonny asked, handing it back.

“Kimani,” he replied. “We call her Kimi for short.” Justus got to his feet, slipping his wallet back into his back pocket. “I’ll be in touch. I’m glad I could help out. Take care of yourself.” He shook Sonny’s hand, then Jason’s, and left.

“I wouldn’t blame him if he kept his life in Philly,” Sonny said with a murmur after Jason closed the door. “You know how Edward gets when he thinks there’s a kid to latch on to.”

Jason grimaced at the thought of it, then his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out. “Cody, hey. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Spencer and Falconieri just came to Kelly’s and ran into Miss Webber. The bail hearing is over—Ric got bail and he already posted it.”

Jason grimaced, but nodded. “So, he’s already gone?”

“Yeah. I called our guy at the courthouse. Lansing got permission to relocate to Crimson Point to stay with his dad

“Thanks, Cody. I’ll see you later.” Jason closed his phone and tossed it on the pool table behind him. “Ric’s out, and he’s gonna be going down to Crimson Point.”

“Going after him now might still be risky,” Sonny admitted, “but if he’s down with the Zaccharas, it’s another suspect. We should look into it, see how easy it might be to arrange an accident.” He moved over to the desk where they were sorting through some trucking schedules. “Speaking of the Zaccharas, I got a call from Anthony.”

“Yeah? It didn’t go through Enzo?” Jason said with a frown. “Usually Enzo calls Benny—or now Bernie, I guess. Zacchara doesn’t usually get involved.”

“He seemed to think the arrest of his lawyer’s son for crimes against my wife warranted it.” Sonny’s smile was thin and sour. “Wanted to make sure he knew that this was all Ric’s vendetta.”

“You buy that?”

“I buy that maybe Zacchara and Lansing had some hopes. When Faith pulled Ric in, they tried to capitalize on it. But now? With all eyes on us and shipments basically at a halt, if Zacchara makes it worse—he won’t just have me to deal with. He’ll have the others breathing down his neck. Money talks.”

Sonny took in the penthouse and grimaced. “God, my sister has bad taste in decorating. You should let Carly deal with this crap.”

Jason shrugged. “I got rid of the cabinet that made it hard to play pool,” he said. “I don’t care other than that.” He hesitated. “Unless you think it would help Carly.”

“She’s…doing okay, I guess. I was driving her nuts the first few days, I think. But I’m trying to let her out of my sight.” Sonny shook his head. “It’s hard. But Max goes with her everywhere, and I try to let that be enough. She’s going back to work at the Cellar tonight.”

“I’m glad.” Jason looked away. “I made some calls. I’m seeing Baker next week.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, Jase. I know it was my idea, but maybe this isn’t the best thing. For you to go, I mean. We could send one of our guys in or bribe a guard to pass a message.”

“And if that didn’t work? What if he sends her another letter?” Jason demanded. He shook his head. “No. It has to be me.” When Sonny remained unconvinced, he scowled. “What if it were Carly, Sonny?”

“It’s not—”

“If it was, would you let someone else deal with it?”

Sonny looked away, rubbing his hand against his chest. What would he do if he learned that a man who had violated the woman he loved was trying to get in touch with her? What if Carly didn’t want to know? Had told him not to do anything? Would he be content in sending someone else with a warning?

“I’d probably do the same thing you’re doing. But that doesn’t mean either of us would be right. Look at me, Jase. You and Elizabeth—you’re just putting things back together. Why do you want to do something that might mess that up?”

Jason shook his head. “It won’t—”

“Because it’s one thing to send someone with a warning. You can tell her that, she’d probably be grateful. But I don’t know, if you go see the guy—you can’t tell her. That feels different. I don’t know why.”

“So, you’re wrong about not telling her—”

“You want to take the risk that you put that asshole back in her head?” Sonny asked. “No, man, I’m telling you. You put yourself in that room with him, and tell her you’re doing it, it just feels like you’d be crossing a line. She didn’t want to do anything. Are you even going to tell her you still have that damn letter?” He arched his brow.

“I—” Jason sighed. “No.”

“You’re already lying to her. You tell her you have the letter, you go see him—I’m telling you, Jase. She doesn’t want to know anything about him or this letter. You can probably skate by with the warning, but don’t do this yourself.”

“I won’t tell her—”

“Jase…” Sonny moved towards him. “I_ get_ it. You can’t make Ric go away right now. Neither of us can. So here you’ve got someone else who hurt her, and you think this is a thing you _can_ fix. I know you.”

“I—” Jason closed his eyes. “I know you’re right. I know that. I wish like hell I’d thrown that letter out and just forgotten about it. But I didn’t. And what if he gets out in a couple of months and tries to see her?”

“Then we make a few calls and make it clear to him that he stays the hell away from Port Charles. Don’t go to see him. Jason, I just—” Sonny shook his head. “Take it from me. I’ve destroyed more than a few relationships by doing what I thought was right and not listening to the other person.”

“I’m going to see him,” Jason said again. “I’ll need to make sure he knows to leave Elizabeth—and Emily—alone.” He hesitated. “I can’t do nothing. Elizabeth—” He rubbed his chest. “She’ll understand. I won’t—I won’t say anything to her right away. I’ll wait until she’s stronger.”

“Sure.” Sonny eyed him with skepticism before shrugging. “You know her better than me.”

“Okay.” Jason shook his head, as if to clear it. “Let’s finish this paperwork. I want to check with the security at her building.”

**Luke** **’s: Bar**

Lucky was unsurprised to find Kelsey sliding onto a bar stool that night, but some of her usual animation had faded. Her dark brown eyes were shadowed with purple circles.

He glanced down the rest of the bar, but it was still early enough in the evening that it wasn’t packed and that night’s featured music group hadn’t taken the stage yet. He poured a glass of water and set it down in front of her. “Long day?”

“Yeah.” Kelsey sighed, rested an elbow on the bar, then propped her chin on her hand. “You can probably guess why.”

“I know Ric Lansing bailed himself out,” Lucky offered. “You want your usual?” When she nodded, he took down the bottle of gin. “Didn’t you expect him to?”

“I guess. And I get it. I’ve read all the studies that defendants are better able to assist their attorneys outside of jail. They’re able to advocate for themselves more effectively.” She scowled. “We want a fair justice system, but I don’t know…this guy—”

She reached for the bowl of peanuts Lucky kept on the bar and shelled a few of them. “I wasn’t really on the case. Scott kept control of it, but I’ve been helping on some of the legwork. There’s a lot of paperwork, and Scott wants to get it right.”

“Yeah, Taggert and Mac are checking everything with a fine-tooth.” Lucky set her drink down. “I was surprised the judge agreed to let him go to Crimson Point.”

“Yeah, that didn’t make Scott that happy. He’s out of our jurisdiction, so keeping an eye on him is going to be harder. He has one of those ankle monitors.” Kelsey grimaced. “Now I know why my dad went into tax law. This—” She hesitated. “This feels so important. Like, the weight of what he did to those women—” She wrinkled her nose. “I forgot. You know them—”

“Yeah, more or less.” Lucky scratched his temple, a bit discomforted. “Carly’s my cousin though we’ve never been close. Elizabeth—we—” He lifted a shoulder. “We were engaged.”

“Oh.” Kelsey lifted her brows. She didn’t look irritated, merely interested. “You didn’t make it to the altar?”

“Ha. Yeah, well, we did. Except that’s as far as we got. It’s—” Lucky paused, trying to decide just how much crazy he wanted to throw at her. He liked the pretty ADA, with her quick smiles, sharp wit, and gorgeous eyes. What would he have to offer someone like her? He couldn’t even tell the story of his life without simply repeating facts he didn’t entirely remember living through.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “But I guess the best way to sum it up is this — my family had a lot of issues with another family—the Cassadines. Blood feud, if you can believe it. Elizabeth and I were teenagers. Crazy in love.” Sometimes, when he saw her, he could almost remember that.

“Wait, the Cassadines?” Kelsey tapped her chin. “I think I remember something about this. Dad knew your mother a little bit. He said she’d been kidnapped by some crazy Greeks. Held hostage for years.” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, sorry. I guess—”

“Yeah, part of that lifetime of trauma thing. Well, when Mom escaped, Dad ended up killing the man who had held her hostage. We thought so anyway. Helena Cassadine—the guy’s mother—she had it out for my Mom and Dad already, but this just made it worse. When I was a teenager, Helena faked my death and then…” He waited a moment. “Brainwashed me into hating my family and basically forgetting Elizabeth.”

“Oh, God.” Her eyes were as round as saucers. “Lucky, I’m so sorry.”

“It—yeah, it messed up my life for a long time.” He rolled his shoulders. “I was gonna marry Elizabeth anyway. I didn’t remember her. I didn’t remember loving her. But I knew she loved me. I thought I owed her that.”

“Charming,” Kelsey said, with an arched brow. “But I guess understandable.”

Lucky frowned at her. “You…believe me? About—”

“I mean, it sounds pretty insane,” she admitted. “But considering that I just lived through a case where a guy held a woman hostage in a panic room in his own house under the nose of the entire PCPD and his wife—” Kelsey sipped her gin and tonic. “Not a stretch. Besides, brainwashing is a legitimate thing. Think of the Manson killers, right? And cult followers? I’m glad you got through it.”

He exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Well, I’m still working through a lot of it. Anyway, Elizabeth and I haven’t really been close since it happened.” And now was probably not the time to tell Kelsey that Lucky had slept with Elizabeth’s sister, partially because he thought it might make her finally give up any hope of them getting back together.

There really wasn’t a way to make that sound okay.

“All of that is to say that I’m glad that you and the DA’s office feel the weight of what Lansing did. I may not like Baldwin—” He chuckled when her eyes narrowed, “but you’re right. He’s done good by Carly and Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, well, my Dad used to say Scott was one of the most ethical guys he knew, but I guess anyone can change when life disappoints him. The last time my dad even saw Scott was at his wife’s funeral.”

“Yeah.” Lucky nodded. “I wasn’t living here then, but my mom used to get the news from Port Charles, and we read about it in Canada. It was pretty sad.” He hesitated. “I guess that means your dad isn’t around anymore.”

“Nope. Died in…” Kelsey sighed. “1994. Car accident. Single car, rural road. He’d been on his way home from a client meeting and the cops thought he fell asleep behind the wheel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…he’d be proud of me, you know? And I had him for the first thirteen years of my life. That matters.” She shook her head. “How did we get so maudlin? I came in here to flirt with you.” Kelsey grinned up at him, but the sly light he’d come to look for in her eyes was absent.

“We can flirt tomorrow. I have the night shift again.” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned in just a bit towards her. “And you can stop slipping Claude tens to find out my schedule. I’ll give it to you for free.”

“I guess we’re flirting tonight, after all.” And this time, her smile reached her eyes. “Maybe, if you ever get a night off, we could try something else.”

“Let me talk to Claude and work something out.” Lucky slid the back of his fingers down her cheek. “There it is. How do you manage to smirk with only your eyes?”

“It’s one of my many skills.” She paused. “Maybe someday you’ll get to see the rest of them.”

**Vista Point: Summit**

Elizabeth let the summer night air wash over her as she stood at the guard rail that looked out over Lake Ontario. In the distance, she could see the hulking mass of Wyndemere rise out over the mists of Spoon Island.

“You okay?” Jason asked, resting his elbows on the rail. “You want to drive back?”

Elizabeth laughed. “You _must_ be worried if you’re thinking about letting me drive. I’m going to take a rain check, but…I’m okay. I thought I’d be more worried about Ric, but thanks to you and Cody—and the army of security guards in my lobby—” She arched a brow. “Did you buy my new apartment building?”

Jason shrugged a shoulder. “Real estate is always a good investment. And I wanted to make sure the security was upgraded.” He straightened and then turned, leaning back against the railing. “So, if you’re not worried about Ric making bail…”

“I’m thinking about the homework assignment Gail gave me the other day,” Elizabeth confessed. “She asked me to think about the reasons I wouldn’t tell you something that happened last summer.”

Jason squinted. “What happened—”

“After you rescued me—after I got out of that crypt, you remember that I was…” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. She pushed away from the railing and went down the stairs to sit on the bench. How did she put this into words so he could understand?

“You were scared,” Jason said softly, joining her on the bench. “I remember.”

“Not _just_ scared.” Elizabeth looked at her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together. “It was more that I was…terrified. I had panic attacks. Anxiety attacks. The night of the blackout, I was having a panic attack when Zander showed up.”

She saw his face tighten and he looked away at that name. “Elizabeth—”

“It was dark, just like the crypt,” Elizabeth murmured. “And I kept thinking someone was going to come get me. That I would open my eyes and be back in that tiny little room—I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. And Zander was there, and I just wanted that to go away.”

“We don’t have to talk about this—”

“We do, because I need you to understand what happened next.” Elizabeth turned her body to face his slightly. “When you came over the next morning, I was still trying to process what I’d done. I couldn’t—I couldn’t understand it. And then you looked at me like I was _nothing_.”

“I—” Jason exhaled slowly, but his shoulders were still tense. “I was hurt,” he admitted. “I know we hadn’t—”

“We hadn’t said what we both knew was true. But then I knew that I’d ruined it. And I was still having the panic attacks. I didn’t know that’s what they were. I was just scared all the time, and I—I didn’t want to be alone. So, I thought if I had ruined things with you, then I should make it count. So, I thought…I thought maybe I could find something with Zander.”

Jason hesitated. “You were having panic attacks a lot?” he asked, almost forcing the words out. “When—did they stop?”

“After the warehouse exploded, after I was shot, I stopped lying to myself and to Zander. Because I started to think I hadn’t…that maybe I hadn’t ruined everything.” She licked her lips. “I went back to the hospital for a follow up a few days after the funeral to get my stitches taken out. And I got stuck in the elevator. There was another black out. I was trapped in that little space with no light, and it was like all my nightmares coming back.”

“You—why didn’t you—” Jason closed his eyes. “You didn’t tell me because I wasn’t there to tell. I pushed you away.”

“I guess. I mean, I _was_ trying to get you to give me a chance. And maybe if you had been there, I would have told you. I don’t know. I can’t answer that. When the power came back, Gram was there when I got out. I don’t remember what happened after that. She told me that I—I had this glazed look in my eye. Like I wasn’t even there. She took me home, and after a while, I was myself again. She brought me home a pamphlet—”

Elizabeth pulled out her small purse and took out a piece of paper that had been folded so many times it was weak at the edges and nearly in pieces. “She said she’d talked to Gail Baldwin about what I’d told her. She wanted me to go see her.”

Jason carefully unfolded the paper and his jaw clenched. “Acute stress disorder. Like…Carly.”

“Left untreated, it often develops into full-fledged Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know that already.”

“I—I do.” Jason looked at her. “You said you hadn’t seen Gail since before the fire—”

“I refused to go. I thought I was making headway with you.” She offered him a half smile. “It was after that night I tricked you into meeting here. When you kissed me, I thought I was—I thought if I just fixed what was wrong with me, then I wouldn’t be scared all the time. If I went into therapy because of what happened at the crypt, I knew you’d feel like you’d been right.”

“And that I would push you away again.” Jason carefully folded the pamphlet up and returned it to her. “How long—how long—”

“Gram got me through it. She got some things from Gail that I could do on my own. She talked me through panic attacks, taught me how to get myself through them. And then Zander got hurt, and I brought him to you—Gram wanted me to leave. To focus on me, but I was doing so much better by then. I was distracting myself by worrying about you.” She managed a smile, but it was a sad one. “The last panic attack I had was the night I found out the truth.”

“The night you left.”

“Yeah. That three hours I told you I waited for you to come home?” she reminded him. “I don’t really remember most of it. I—Zander and I saw it on the news, and he was pissed off. He was gone in the first hour. And then I was alone. And I—I don’t know. I guess I was scared. Or whatever. I don’t know what triggered it. But when I came out of it, I saw it had been three hours.”

“Elizabeth—” Jason clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“I don’t expect you to say anything. I just—a lot of what I said and did during my panic and anxiety attacks—I honestly don’t remember. I know I said some awful things to you; I remember parts of it. But I was just trying to breathe, and I wanted you—” She closed her eyes. “No. That’s not important—”

“Yes, it is,” Jason insisted. He took her hands in his. “Tell me what you wanted me to do that night. For months, I’ve played that conversation over and over again in my head, trying to figure out _what_ I could have done differently.”

“I thought you didn’t look back,” she whispered, her eyes burning, the chill of tears sliding down her cheeks. “I wanted you to come in, take me in your arms, and make me feel safe. But you didn’t. You came in and you looked at me like I was…like you already knew it was over. And then you said I didn’t matter—that’s what I heard you say anyway.” She exhaled on a shaky sigh. “I kept myself busy after that. I threw myself into helping Lucky. I did the exercises Gail gave me. And…I just tried not to think about it.”

Jason cupped her cheeks in his hand—almost the way he’d done eleven months earlier when they’d been here before. “And you were afraid to tell me because you already thought I saw you as weak.”

“I wanted to be strong enough to keep you,” she managed to force out. “And I was terrified I wasn’t. And when you didn’t tell me—I thought that was proof.” She closed her eyes, leaned her face into one of his hands, while his other tucked her hair behind her ears. “But I need to tell you everything that happened last year because I don’t want it between us anymore. I just want to move on with my life. With you.”

“That’s all I want, too.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	3. Chapter Twenty-Two

_Struggling between the facts and fiction_  
_I'm alone but I'm alive_  
_Everyone around me is trying to make a statement_  
_Then there's me_  
_I'm just trying to survive_

\- Disarray, Lifehouse

* * *

_Monday, July 14, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Taggert sat down in the chair next to Vinnie and set some files on the desk. “We need to talk, Vinnie.”

“This better not be about my closure rate,” the younger man grumbled as he threw down his pencil. “I closed two cases last week—”

“This is about the open sexual assault cases—including the one you picked up a few weeks ago.” Taggert put a finger on the files. “You haven’t given me any updated reports.’

“No updates to give.” Vinnie reached for his own notepad. “I got Dana Watson, aged 21. Attacked and raped on February 14. No witnesses, Watson can’t give me anything useful, and with no suspect, I can’t put her kit in for testing. May 30, I got Renee Norton, aged 16. Raped near the Angel fountain. My only suspect is her ex-boyfriend, but he’s got an alibi I can’t shake, so Mac shut me down to process the rape kit. And Wendy Morris, July 2. Age 23. Raped and attacked near Martin memorial. No suspects, no kit.”

Taggert grimaced. “And you don’t think these are linked?”

“No, I think the _Herald_ ran a bunch of articles because Watson was attacked, and it gave some people ideas. She’s an intern there.” Vinnie shrugged and stuck a lollipop in his mouth. “What do you want me to do? I got no witnesses, no forensics because of budget cuts, and until Mac lets me do anything with them, I can’t even say they’re linked or not. Welcome to Major Crimes, Tag. This is the shit I live with.”

Taggert wanted to find some fault with Vinnie’s logic but simply couldn’t. “I get it. Look, these cases are dragging down your closure rate. Let me take them off your hands so Mac can come at me. It won’t be the first time we’ve argued about rape kits and budgets.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Leave your case notes on my desk.”

“We talked about this, Tag. I don’t wanna dump my cases on you—I wanna see them through—”

“And you will. But if I’m primary on them, it makes them _my_ problem. And like I said…” He offered a sour smile. “After the bullshit with the Corinthos kidnapping, I got some cards I can play. You don’t want the _Herald_ sniffing out the like crimes and telling us we got a serial rapist on our hands.”

“Yeah, I guess. They _are_ fucking with my closure rate.” Vinnie leaned forward, flipped through some files. He handed three manila folders over. “The kits are down in Evidence, still waiting for someone to give a damn.” He hesitated. “Keep me in the loop, though. I wanna know if we can get these bastards.”

“Thanks, Vinnie.” Taggert took the files and returned to his desk where he began to sort through them and make notes of his own.

**GH: Gail Baldwin** **’s Office**

“Let’s talk about homework,” Gail said as she brought the session to a close. “Have you thought about why you didn’t tell Jason about your stress disorder last year?”

“Yeah. I mean, I kind of always _knew_ why I didn’t tell him then. I—” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. “I think back then, I was afraid if I told Jason that I had slept with Zander during an anxiety attack, it would have made the tensions so much worse. He already hated Zander, and I just—I didn’t want to make it worse. Zander didn’t know.”

“You never told him either.”

“No, but it wouldn’t have occurred to me. It was a moment of madness and what came after was just…my desperate attempt to salvage _something_.” She sighed and leaned back against the sofa. “But I told Jason the other night.”

“Oh? How did it go?”

“Okay, I think. I don’t know. He was upset because I know he blames himself for not seeing something was wrong. And it doesn’t help that it was going on at the same time he was pushing me away, then lying to me about Sonny—he’s been quiet since.”

Gail tilted her head. “Quiet?”

“I can’t…” Elizabeth squinted, trying to articulate the words. “I don’t really know if I can explain it, you know? It’s not like we’re _not_ talking to each other. Until Monica clears me health-wise, we can’t really do anything else. But there’s just this…tension that I don’t understand. I don’t know—he’s been staying at his penthouse again since Courtney moved out, but she’s only across the hall.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“No.” Elizabeth quickly shook her head. “No. It’s not like last year. I see Jason every day. We have breakfast at Kelly’s a lot—just to touch base. And then we go for a drive on the bike after he’s done work. We drive for hours…it’s been great.”

Gail nodded. “But you think something is bothering him?”

“Yes. I guess so. I mean, I don’t know if I can just make it because of me. I know there’s a lot going on. Sonny and Carly went through absolute hell—”

“Have you asked?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “No. Should I?”

“I don’t know. You know Jason better than anyone.” Gail paused. “But I imagine we should talk about _why_ you’re not asking him. I’m not saying you need to—”

“But there’s something bothering the man I love and I’m holding myself back from asking about it. So that’s probably me expecting the worst, right? Like maybe I think he’s having regrets. He’s—things are back to normal for the most part, and maybe I don’t fit.”

Gail was silent, and Elizabeth sighed. “Yeah. I guess this is me not wanting to rock the boat. I just told him about the crap from last year when I knew he already felt guilty for how I took everything. I guess…maybe I just wanted to coast a little bit. And plus, like I said earlier, Ric got out on bail, so maybe that’s it.”

Her therapist just raised her brows, and Elizabeth bit her lip. “But I should ask him. Or at least really think about why I’m afraid to. Does that mean I don’t believe him when he says he loves me?”

“That’s something we can talk about in a few days.” Gail rose to her feet. “But that’s your homework for this session. Why are you so afraid of change?”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Carly scowled down at a furniture catalog and threw it aside. It landed on top of three other catalogs, and the fourth was too slick and heavy. It slid off the sofa and hit the floor, its pages fanning open. She stared down at it, trying to gather the energy to sit up and get it.

She could leave it there. Sonny, the neat freak, wasn’t home to complain about it.

“Here, I’ll get that,” her sister-in-law offered as she came back from the kitchen. Courtney handed Carly the bowl of ice cream she’d gone to fetch and picked up the Wyndham’s catalog. She set it on the coffee table, then reached for the others to set on top. Maybe to avoid a similar avalanche.

Courtney had been relentlessly chipper and helpful since she’d moved in officially the week before, lugging all of her things from Jason’s penthouse and the few odds and ends she’d tucked away in storage after moving out of her loft.

Carly had a dark feeling that this syrupy twit might be closer to the real Courtney than the one that had tried to toughen herself up to be with a mob enforcer. And every time her sister-in-law opened her mouth, Carly wanted to shove her fist down it.

But that wasn’t Courtney’s fault, Carly reminded herself. And the other woman was handling everything better than almost anyone else. Probably because she’d been the least involved. Damn it. It was thoughts like that chipped away at the fledgling friendship they were trying to build.

“I’ve been thinking of finding somewhere else to stay,” Courtney offered as she settled on the other sofa, her own bowl of ice cream perched in one hand. She dug into the mint chocolate chip with the other hand. “I can’t believe Sonny’s a morning person, so I figure he’s been leaving for the warehouse at the crack of dawn to avoid me.”

Carly frowned, both irritated at Courtney’s presumption that Sonny would change his schedule for her, and also because…well, she was probably right. And Carly was frustrated that _she_ couldn’t avoid Courtney until the late afternoon. She’d promised her mother and the doctors she wouldn’t go back to her old work schedule just yet, but man, she couldn’t wait to go back to The Cellar full-time. “A lot of stuff probably got backed up while I was gone,” she reminded Courtney. “Don’t make it about you.”

Courtney pressed her lips together. “Yeah, it’s never about me. That’s been made very clear.” She moved her spoon around the bowl, the metal clanking against the ceramic. “So, Sonny’s always this moody, and you guys always fight this much? It’s not because I’m here?”

Carly furrowed her brow. “We’re not fighting.” Were they? “It’s—it’s been hard. Sonny feels guilty for not being the one that found me. For how much pressure Jason put on himself—” She shook her head and sat up, wincing as her back twinged. She felt about a hundred years more pregnant than she had the night she’d been kidnapped. “I know you’re unhappy, Courtney—”

“Unhappy,” Courtney repeated, her mouth pinched as she set her half-eaten bowl on the coffee table. “Look, I get it. I’m selfish. I’m thinking about me after you and Elizabeth were traumatized by Ric. I know that being pissed at her when she literally didn’t do a damn thing to me makes no sense. But it doesn’t change the fact that a month ago, I was planning my wedding.”

Carly exhaled slowly, admitting silently that Courtney maybe had some good reason to be as hurt and put out as she was trying not to act. If Carly was in her position, if _she__’d_ been basically jilted at the altar and Sonny had returned to an ex—God, forbid, if Sonny had left her and taken up with _Brenda_—she probably wouldn’t be handling it well.

“Courtney, I’m sorry if you feel like—”

“I had a brother,” Courtney continued. “And a best friend who seemed liked they cared about me. I had a wonderful man who was planning to share his life with me. Were we perfect? No. Did I know things weren’t all that great—I guess I can see it now. Even admit it. I ignored all the red flags because I thought if we could get married, he would remember how happy I made him when we started.”

“I know Sonny and I—” Carly hesitated. “I know we haven’t been maybe as supportive as I should have been—”

“It’s not even that. I don’t expect you and Sonny to hold my hand. Not after what happened to both of you. I mean, damn it, Carly, you were in the hospital, and I asked you if you’d noticed Jason having an affair while you were being held _hostage_.” She rolled her eyes. “It was like I was outside of my body, listening to myself ask those questions, and I wanted to hit myself.”

“Well, yeah, that did piss me off,” Carly admitted. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t have had the same thought.”

“The thing is—the thing that I know drives me crazy—maybe Jason and I could have salvaged things if I could have meant it when I said I was sorry I called the PCPD. I know they screwed up the investigation, but—” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to live in a world where calling the police makes me the villain.”

Carly dragged herself to her feet, bracing a hand at the small of her back as her muscles protested. “I get it,” she murmured. “To be part of this world, you have to take certain things for granted. It’s one thing to say you get it. It’s another to _live _it.”

“If Jason and I had stayed together, it just would have been prolonging the inevitable.” Courtney drew her legs up, tucked them under her chin. “I know why Sonny is the way he is. And I know why Jason is loyal to him. I really thought—I thought I got it. I went to Sonny when I was being stalked. Not the police.”

“So, what changed?” Carly asked. “What made you call the PCPD that night? You knew better—”

“I truly believed I thought I was helping. I still think that. But why did I do it myself and not try to talk to Sonny and Jason? Why didn’t I even give them a chance to go to Ric’s—” She met Carly’s gaze, tears shimmering in her blue eyes. “I was so angry at Jason when he was yelling at me. He kept telling me if the police hadn’t shown up, he could have gotten Elizabeth out of there. She’d been drugged. Ric nearly killed her that next day with the drugs—I read about it in the paper. And Sonny could have dragged Ric out of there, forced him to give you up that first night—”

“Courtney…” Carly bit her lip. “You couldn’t have known—”

“But I knew the rules. Maybe I was sabotaging myself. Maybe I knew that they rushed out of there for you, but that Jason was probably already thinking about Elizabeth. She was always there, Carly. I have eyes, I’m not stupid. He didn’t want to marry me. I was willing to keep trying, but do I think we actually would have made it? No. We would have lasted maybe six months. If that. Because Jason is a good man.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “But _she_ was always there, and he was just waiting for any sign he still had a chance. How do I ignore that he took the first opportunity to put himself back in Elizabeth’s orbit?”

“You made it easier for him by calling the cops and letting them search without a warrant.”

“Not on purpose. I didn’t—I didn’t see it until I heard him—” Courtney bit her lip. “He came home to grab clothes a few times, and one of those times—he was talking to Elizabeth. I could hear how worried he was. And then Sonny had his breakdown…and I just—I couldn’t do it anymore. He broke up with me, and I went to the island. But when I came back, when you were found…”

Courtney laughed through her tears, but the self-loathing was evident. “I decided to try one last time to guilt him back to me. I tried to _shame_ him into loving me. God, how desperate am I, right? I was a rebound. I can say that now. I just wanted to _belong_ somewhere. No one had the time of day for me before I started dating Jason.”

Carly pressed her lips together, nodded. Admitted the truth of that to herself. “I pushed you two together. I did that because I don’t like Elizabeth, and I wanted him away from her.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done anything.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Because things are back the way they should be. He’s with her, and I’m…nowhere. I need to do something, try something else. I just—” Courtney shrugged. “I just don’t know what.”

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Mac scrubbed his hands over his face. “This…I do not need today, Taggert. We just…” He shook his head, looked down at the report the lieutenant had prepared for him. The irrefutable evidence that something terrible was lurking in Port Charles Park. “We just started digging ourselves out of the media sink hole, and you’re telling me that there’s a serial rapist and we missed it for months.”

“I don’t know if I can say Vinnie missed it on purpose. He’s not great at details,” Taggert admitted as he paced the length of the office. “But there’s enough time between the Watson and Norton attacks that maybe I could buy not seeing it then. And I looked at the case file. He’s right — the Norton case had a suspect, but there was an alibi. I’m not sure anyone would have made the link for sure until Morris on July 2.”

Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. Well, we’ve made the link. And I can see you’ve taken over all three cases. What do you need from me?”

“I want to send all three out to forensics, to see if I can get an official link. I also want to release a statement to the public, warning them to be careful in the park after dark. It’s just lucky the _Herald _hasn’t printed the story yet. I asked them to hold it until I could get all the details. They agreed, but I’ve got maybe a week.”

“The time between attacks is getting shorter,” Mac pointed out as he took another look at the timeline. “Watson on February 14, Norton three and a half months later. Then Morris five weeks later. You’re not getting much of a cooling off time.”

Something rolled in the pit of his stomach. Park. Fountain. He opened the folder and looked at the trio of photographs of the victims. Brunettes. Teens. Early twenties.

Just a coincidence, he told himself. He forced away the thought. He was just thinking about the Webber case because of the threat of a lawsuit against the city and his argument with Floyd a few days ago about it. Baker was guilty, he’d confessed. Mac had done what he’d done to make sure he’d gone to prison. End of story.

“Yeah, but I don’t want the papers to have it first,” Taggert told him. “If you can get the mayor to sign off a press release, and the city council to approve some overtime—we can get the story in the papers in a few days.”

“You want the mayor to approve a press release about a serial rapist in an election year?” Mac raised his brows. “Yeah, well, that’s probably not going to happen. Who else knows about the case in the squad room? Who do you have working it?”

“All of my division,” Taggert told him. “I have Rodriguez and Falconieri running down security footage and possible witnesses from around the park. I haven’t pulled Spencer in officially yet, but I’m sure he’s aware of it. Vinnie—these were his cases. And probably Beaudry. He was the responding patrol officer to Watson and Norton.”

“Okay.” Mac shook his head. “I can submit a budget request, Taggert, but I’ll be honest. The city council isn’t all that happy with the PCPD, not after the Lansing case. Some of them are probably going to be running on criminal justice reform. I’ll try to use that as leverage, but you know how they are when we ask for money.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Well, we’ll do what we can. I know the mayor might say no, Mac, but we need to ask. If nothing else,” Taggert said as he took back his files. “We need to cover our own asses. Because if this blows up in our faces—”

“Floyd will make sure it blows back on us. Yeah, I’m familiar. I’ll ask for both, but we’ll have to come up with a Plan B if we don’t get one or both.”

**Condo: Living Room**

After eating takeout from Eli’s, Elizabeth rose to take the dishes to the kitchen while Jason discarded the trash into the garbage can underneath one of her counters.

After her session with Gail earlier that day, she’d returned to her place to sort through her art materials—to play with some colored pencils and sketching, trying to get her groove back. A few hours later, Jason had come by with dinner—and they’d talked about their days.

But she still hadn’t asked him what was bothering him. And she couldn’t really figure out why she was holding back.

She walked over to the windows overlooking the harbor and wrapped her arms around her torso. Jason came up behind her, and she leaned back into his embrace, his arms encircling her shoulders. “You okay?”

“I think that’s supposed to be _my_ question.” She turned around in his arms and peered up at him. “You don’t talk to me.”

Jason’s brow furrowed and he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. “Elizabeth—”

“I mean, you talk to me, but you don’t—” She bit her lip. “It’s always _me_ starting the conversation. You don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I tell you—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something has been bothering you for a few days, but I haven’t asked you. And you know why? Because I _know_ you won’t tell me.” Her eyes burned. Because, God, now she _knew_. “It’s fine for me to pour my heart out to you, to open up—but you don’t do the same. Unless I make you. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?”

Jason pressed his lips together. “You know there are things—”

“No.” She sliced a hand through the air. “_No_. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to _ever_ use that again. Because that’s not the kind of thing that bothers you. You don’t bring that home with you. Whatever is going on is personal.”

He hesitated—for just a second—before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“I just—” She bowed her head. “I guess there’s nothing to say. You say you love me. You make me think it’s true. But this can’t work unless you talk to me. I know something is going on—”

“And I’m supposed to tell you every single thought I have?” Jason asked with some skepticism. “I’m not allowed to keep anything to myself?”

Everything inside her sunk because she’d seen this coming. “Last year—”

“I don’t want to talk about last year anymore,” Jason cut in with a flash in his eyes. “We both messed up. We both made mistakes. Stop bringing that into this—”

Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. “Fine. Never mind. Forget I asked.” She skirted around him and sat down in her armchair, picked the sketchpad and a pencil up from the small table next to it and tried to pick up on the sketch she’d begun before his arrival.

“Elizabeth, don’t—”

“_Don__’t_ tell me another thing I can’t do.” She squeezed the pencil hard. “Don’t ask what’s wrong. Don’t talk about last year. Don’t do this. What _do_ you want me to do, Jason? I know something is bothering you, but I guess I’ll just ignore it. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it? So, fine. The door’s over there. You know the way out.”

Jason exhaled slowly and then sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Just once,” she murmured. “I’d like you to come to me without having to feel like I’ve forced you to say anything.” She met his eyes. “I’m tired of always being open. Always taking the first step. Because now, even if you tell me, it’ll be because I’m angry. Because you don’t want me to walk away again. Not because you genuinely want to tell me.”

He dipped his head. “I’ve gotten used to keeping things to myself. Not even telling Sonny. Even before everything—in the last few months with Robin, everything I said or did made her angry. Made her sad. I couldn’t say anything right, so I stopped saying anything at all. And with Carly, it never mattered what I felt. What I said. She did what she wanted.”

“I’m not Robin, and I’m sure as hell not Carly.” Elizabeth drew her knees up to her chest. “I know we both have issues—baggage. We not only hurt each other, but we’ve been hurt by other people. We’ve hurt them. I don’t expect to fix everything that’s wrong with me in a few weeks. And maybe it’s not fair to expect more from you than I do myself—”

“But you _do_ open up,” he cut in with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his eyes. “And I don’t. If I had been more honest with you last year, if I had told you how much I loved you, how much better you made my life—I never said it. I know that. If I had—”

“You never used to think about ifs.”

“I never used to lie either,” he muttered. “Look, something is…bothering me. And I can’t tell you. It’s just—it’s not about the business. I just—I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said slowly. “Will you tell me when you can?”

“Yeah, I will.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re going to have to skip the ride tonight. I have somewhere to be—that I can’t tell you about.”

“Fair enough. I love you, Jason. I don’t mind if we have to work at this,” she murmured. “Just…I don’t want to do it by myself.”

“You won’t.” He rose, and then drew her to her feet so he could cradle her face in his hands. “I love you, Elizabeth. I’m not always good at showing it or even telling you, but I promise you that it’s true.”

“I know it is.” She pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

**Kelly** **’s: Dining Room**

Brooke grumbled and leaned over a table, scrubbing at a milkshake stain. “God, I hate kids,” she muttered. She glanced over to find Lucas Jones with their last table of customers, a group of college kids from PCU. She could tell that Lucas knew them from the way they were talking and laughing.

Lucas had the easy job tonight—she was on bus duty to learn the value of the dishes she kept breaking, Bobbie had told her.

She hated this job even if it did keep her busy. She just wanted to be in her room, writing her music but there was no money in that. Not yet. And she’d promised her father she’d try.

She glanced back over at the group and squinted when she saw one of the guys touch Lucas’s arm.

Well, well. She was a woman of the world, and she knew that look. She smiled but returned to her cleaning. One more table and then they could close. Man, she really wanted to get out of here and get off her feet.

When the college kids had left, Lucas joined her behind the counter as they started cleaning up and preparing for closing.

Brooke slid a look at him from under her eyelashes before returning to her receipts. “You know the worst thing about my Ma grounding me the entire month before she shipped me up here?”

Lucas snorted, as if expecting some sort of spoiled rich girl anecdote. “No. What’s the worst thing? They take away your Porsche?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No, I couldn’t hang out with my friends at Pride Week. You know that Brooklyn does the _best_ parade.”

Lucas froze, staring straight ahead. “You…go to Pride Week.”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure when I figured it out,” Brooke said with a shrug. “I think it was the Spice Girls, you know? They were just really pretty, and I couldn’t get into the boy bands the way my friends did. But then I met this one chick at a club—that I wasn’t supposed to be in, but hey, when in Brooklyn—and we got drunk.” Brooke shot him a wicked grin. “Girls know what girls want better, you know?”

“Brooke.” Lucas exhaled slowly. “Listen. Are you—”

“You’re not out to your family yet, are you?” Brooke asked. “Me either. I think my dad would probably be all right, and Ma—maybe. But man, the rest of the Cerullos are die-hard Catholics.” She shrugged. “_So_ not interested in being told I’m going to hell.”

Lucas bit his lip. “No, I’m not out. I’ve been seeing that—one of those guys—for a few weeks. We’ve been fighting about—” He looked at her. “His name is Felix.”

“I know, I saw. He’s cute.” Brooke leaned against the counter. “You worried about not only telling your ma you like boys, but that you also like black boys?”

“_No_,” Lucas said forcefully. “No, she’s not like that. It’s not—” He grimaced. “I’m not sure I really understand. I know my family would be supportive. I know Maxie and Georgie would be great. And God, Lu would probably invite Felix over for dinner. And Mom would be good.”

“And yet…”

“And yet.” Lucas smiled weakly at her. “You get it. The world sucks. Just because I _think_ the people I love would be okay…it doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean that they _will_ be.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not sure I’m ready to know for sure.”

“Me either,” Brooke said with a nod. “I can’t ever take it back once I go public. But ignorance is bliss, ya know? What’s the community like here? Is there one?”

“A small one, but not much for anyone under twenty-one.” Lucas put the money into the deposit bag and slid it into the safe in the kitchen. “You were such a bitch when you got here.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a nice person,” Brooke said with a careless shrug. “And I didn’t like feeling like I didn’t have a choice. Plus, I was seeing this one girl, Rosa, and she’s not into long-distance so…” She pursed her lips. “I could have crashed with friends in Brooklyn, you know. But I thought my ma didn’t want me around anymore.”

“Do you still think that?”

“I don’t know. I think being a parent is probably more complicated than that. Like my parents love me and all, but maybe I’m just a reminder of a time in their life they’d rather forget.” Brooke sighed. “Anyway. You want to dish about boys, you come to me. And when I want to talk about girls—” Her eyes brightened. “Oh, hey, you can be my beard.”

“Can guys be beards?” Lucas asked as they moved through the kitchen towards the back door. He flipped out the kitchen light. “Is that even a thing?”

“Hey, the rules are what we make them.” She flashed him a smile before they separated at their cars in the parking lot.

“Hey, Brooke—Dillon’s dragging us to this movie festival tomorrow—” He called from his car as he opened the door. “You can be my date.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

**Pentonville Prison**

The room was windowless and austere with cement walls, a plain rickety wooden table, and a single light bulb swinging from the ceiling.

When Jason’s contact escorted the man inside the room, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. The man who entered was thin and nearly bald. He wore a blue shirt, his pants in a much darker shade of the same color. Tom Baker seemed to have aged thirty years in the five years since Jason had last visited him.

His dark, beady eyes were terrified as the guard shoved him down in the chair opposite of Jason’s, so Jason assumed the man remembered the last time he had been there.

“I don’t want no trouble!” Baker threw up his hands, the handcuffs binding his wrists shining in the dull light.

“That’s why I’m here,” Jason said simply. He set the letter in front of him, still crumbled into a ball. “You sent a letter to Elizabeth Webber. _What _did I say the last time we spoke?”

“I didn’t go near her,” Baker sputtered. “I just…I wanted to make it clear that I—” He looked back around, but the guard has closed the door. They were alone. What little color had filled his cheeks drained. “You gonna kill me for a letter?”

“You tell me the truth,” Jason said evenly, “and I’m not laying a hand on you. Elizabeth…” He hated saying her name to this asshole, but some things were necessary. He leaned forward slightly. “You put yourself back in her head. You swear you’ll stay away from her and make me believe it…just _maybe_ you make it back to your cell. Maybe you even get parole.”

Baker swallowed. “I’m up for parole and this time I’ll get it. My sentence is almost done, they’re overcrowded. But I get out, I’m not stupid. You’re waiting for me. I read the papers. You’re in Port Charles. I saw…I saw what happened last month. You and her are together again so I figure it’s in your head. And your sister—I mean, I just…I didn’t do it. I lied,” Baker said, his voice still shaking. “I just…I lied. She said something, and I ran with it to keep control.”

Jason knew his face didn’t change, that he didn’t move a single muscle, but this…this he hadn’t seen coming. Hadn’t even expected something like this.

And shit, he almost believed that this little piss ant didn’t have the courage or balls to rape anyone. He had committed his crimes in secret—blackmail was a passive crime, and when Baker had been confronted—he’d panicked instead of running.

“But I didn’t. That’s not me. I—” Baker closed his mouth. “It’s not important what happened. You just need to know it wasn’t me. So, we can just leave it all alone. Elizabeth was such a nice girl—”

“You don’t get to say her name,” Jason cut in. “Just shut up, Baker. The only reason you even made it to trial is because my sister wanted to be strong. And the only reason you’re walking away today is because you’re not worth the trouble. Not now.” He put the letter back in his pocket, then stood. “No more letters. She’s not going to go after your parole, and neither is anyone else involved. You’ll walk out of here and you’ll walk away. You come near her, I’m not going to be so nice.”

“But you believe me, right?” Baker demanded. “I didn’t do it.”

Jason said nothing as he exited the door to find the guard leaning against the adjacent wall. “Thanks,” he murmured as he passed him a handful of cash.

It disappeared into the guard’s pocket and he flashed a grin. “Anytime. I appreciate you not killing him. That shit is hell on the paperwork.”

Jason just shrugged and melted down the hallway towards the exit and his bike. Sonny had been right. He should have sent someone else to send this message. Should have known Baker would pretend it wasn’t him. But now the son of a bitch was in his head now, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep this visit from Elizabeth after all.


	4. Chapter Twenty-Three (Content Warning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the final scene has a trigger warning. See [Content Notes](http://madworld.dearisobel.org/about/content-notes/) for more information.

* * *

_And all the people say_  
_You can't wake up, this is not a dream_  
_You're part of a machine, you are not a human being_  
_With your face all made up, living on a screen_  
_Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline_  
\- Gasoline, Halsey

* * *

_Tuesday, July 15, 2003_

**Corinthos-Morgan Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office**

Sonny grimaced at the bright morning light filtering through his windows. He was a night owl and preferred working late into the evening, but…

His sister was a morning person so if Sonny remained in the penthouse, he had to deal with Courtney, and there was not enough coffee in the world to make that work for him.

It was just shy of eight when Jason stopped in the open doorway, and Sonny sighed. His partner looked as if he hadn’t yet slept and since he knew that he had not sent Jason on any task that required being out until the small hours of the morning—

“You went to see Baker last night, didn’t you?”

Jason hesitated, then came into the office proper. He slumped onto the sofa. “You were right. I should have sent someone else.”

“A lot of good it does me now,” Sonny muttered. He rose, crossed to the doorway, and peered out at the clerk who sat outside his office. “Can you get Jason a cup of black coffee? Thanks.”

He turned back to the exhausted and guilt-ridden younger man in his office. The clerk pressed the mug into Sonny’s hands, then Sonny closed the door. He handed the coffee to Jason. “Did you just get back or—”

“I couldn’t sleep after I left.” Jason sipped the coffee, then set it on the table next to the sofa. “I—” He shook his head. “Do I keep things to myself?”

Sonny squinted, not sure where the conversation was going. “You’ve always been a private kind of guy, but yeah, I guess you’ve been a bit more…closed off these last few years. I don’t blame you for it. You used to talk to me more, but I know—it’s been rough for a while.” He sat next to Jason at the other end of the sofa, stretched his arm out over the back. “I imagine you’re asking for a reason.”

“I had a fight with Elizabeth,” he muttered. “She said it feels like she has to force me to talk to her. That it’s always her starting it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “That’s not…is it true?”

Sonny waited a long moment, considering the question. “When you and I met, you had a way of just saying what you felt. You didn’t volunteer a lot, but you never ducked a direct question. You were honest, even when it hurt.” He exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’d agree that part of your personality has changed. It’s not a bad thing. You just…learned how to protect yourself. Putting yourself out there got you hurt, too.”

“She knows something is bothering me,” Jason muttered. “She can always tell. And she asked me directly last night. I didn’t…I didn’t lie to her, but I’m not sure she’ll see it that way.”

He pushed himself to his feet. “I should have left it alone. I didn’t. I went to see him, and he said he didn’t do it.”

Sonny closed his eyes, shook his head. Damn it. “He’s lying. You know that, right?”

“I don’t know. I—when the trial happened, I stayed away. I didn’t want to make things worse for Emily. I didn’t even see Baker until I left town. And by then—” Jason paced the office. “He seemed weak to me. But I thought he’d been in prison for more than a year and was probably scared. I let it go. Elizabeth said he’d confessed.”

He pulled out the crumpled letter. It had been flattened, then folded a few times. “I read it.”

“Hell.” Sonny stood, pressing his hand to his chest, rubbing his heart. “Jase—”

“He wrote the same thing he told me last night. That she’d said something that made him realize she’d been raped, and he ran with it to control her. To get her into the dark room with Emily.” Jason stared down at the letter. “And you know what? That made sense to me. Because the guy who panicked and shoved my sister and Elizabeth into a dark room, who blackmailed a Quartermaine—nothing about that crime was violent.”

“Doesn’t mean anything, Jason. It doesn’t,” he repeated when Jason shook his head. “You said it yourself. He says. He confessed. He’s trying to back pedal—”

“What if he didn’t do it—”

“It’s awful to think about that,” Sonny said. “I don’t like the idea of the fucker who hurt her still being out there in the world. But _she_ doesn’t know it, Jase.”

“No. But she should.” Jason turned back to his partner. “Last year, I wanted to tell Elizabeth about the plan, and you said no.”

“I was wrong—”

“And I listened to you. I let you talk me into keeping her in the dark even when I knew how much she hated being lied to.” Jason crossed to the window, stared out over the docks. “I told myself it wouldn’t be for long, that I would try not to lie to her face. But it didn’t change how hurt she was.”

“No, it didn’t. This is different, Jason. If you don’t tell her, it’s not like someone will come back from the dead and challenge it. She doesn’t know there’s anything to know. If you tell her now, if you do the exact thing she asked you not to do and put this all into her head again—it’s just gonna hurt her. Right now, she thinks it’s over. She has closure. You tell her the truth, it makes it now again.” Sonny lifted his brows. “Do you want to hurt her so you feel better? You don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to hurt her at all, but if she found out I did this and didn’t tell her—wouldn’t that be worse than a lie? After everything—” He shook his head. “We promised each other honesty. Even when it hurt.”

“People say that all the damn time. They always want honesty until they get it. I can’t make this choice for you,” Sonny said after a long moment. “I told you not to go. You went. And now you think you know this thing. But only we know. I’m not going to tell her—”

“I just—I wanted to make it go away,” Jason muttered. “But I can’t. I can’t ever make her rape go away. If I tell her because I feel guilty, you’re right. It’ll hurt her. And I don’t want to do that. Not right now, while she’s still figuring things out. Monica didn’t want a lot of stress—” He lifted a shoulder. “So I’ll just…put it away for now.”

“I know it’s hard, Jase, but you gotta do what’s right for her.” Sonny got to his feet. “I wish there was something else I could say.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not.” Jason shook his head, as if to clear it. He picked up his coffee cup and winced as he noticed the clock on the wall. “I’m late to meet Elizabeth for breakfast.”

“Go, I’ll see you when you get back.”

**Quartermaine Estate: Family Room**

Tracy, Edward, and Ned had left for the office before Monica or Alan had come down for breakfast that morning, and Alan had a meeting at the hospital. So it was just Monica and the teenagers sitting down to eat together.

Brooke was talking a mile a minute about one of the customers she’d had the day before and the fact that she didn’t expect much of a first paycheck. “I think I’ve broken every dish in the building,” she said with a laugh. “Tammy says I’m hopeless. I might be the worst waitress ever.”

“You did bring me a tuna fish sandwich on Sunday,” Dillon agreed, “which is basically a war crime. I _hate_ tuna fish.”

“You’re settling in at Kelly’s all right, then?” Monica forced herself to ask. Having read Brooke the riot act two weeks earlier, she felt somewhat responsible for the girl’s well-being.

It wasn’t as if Ned knew how to take an active role. Monica may not have been the mother of the year, but she’d attempted to be there for her kids growing up which is more than one could say for Ned.

“It’s okay. Better than I thought, especially since Dillon talked the others into giving me a second chance.” The brunette offered her uncle a shy smile. “Thanks for that by the way. I hope it’s okay Lucas invited me to the movies tonight.”

“Lucas Jones?” Monica asked with a raise of her brow. “He’s a good kid. Bobbie and Tony think he’s going to be a great doctor.”

“How can you tell after one year in college?” Dillon asked. To Brooke, he said, “Nah, it’s fine. It’s an old movie festival, but I’m not sure Maxie knows that means it’s in black and white so it should be entertaining.” He hesitated. “Lucas and Kyle hate each other, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, he’s the only one I haven’t met. Should I expect a lot of fighting?”

“Hard to tell. As long as Kyle doesn’t give Lucas an opening, but he’s an agitator. So what I’m saying, Aunt Monica, is that you should probably be ready with bail.”

“You expect to throw a punch?” Monica asked with surprise.

“No,” Dillon sighed, “but the last time Kyle and Lucas went at it, Maxie tried to wade in, and then I was pulling her off and somehow I’m the one Sergeant Beaudry says was committing assault. It’s like being in school, you know? The kid who gets caught talking is always the second one telling the first one to shut their mouth.”

“Life’s just not fair,” Brooke offered with a smirk. Dillon scowled and lobbed a piece of melon at her.

“Better to learn that now.” Monica got to her feet. “I’m leaving for the hospital. If you need a lawyer, Dillon, Alexis is on retainer.”

“Good to know. Because, man, the last time, that jerk cop wouldn’t even give me my phone call. He’s, like, don’t believe everything you read in the movies. I mean, seriously, right?” Dillon shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Violating my constitutional rights, would you believe it?”

“Welcome to Port Charles,” Monica said, dryly. “Where truth, justice, and the American Way is just a slogan.”

“Dude, you read Superman? I knew you were my favorite Quartermaine.”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Kelsey Joyce** **’s Office**

When the point on Kelsey’s pencil snapped, she scowled and launched it across the room. It flew past a smirking Lucky, poised to knock on her open door. At the sight of him, she smiled, immediately lifted. “Hey. What brings you by?”

“I have warrant requests,” he said, holding up a few files. He sauntered into the office, pulling the door partially closed behind him, then set them down in front of her. He leaned in to kiss her.

She slid her hand up his neck, twining her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him down so she could linger just a moment longer. “Hey,” she repeated, a bit more softly. “How’d you know I needed to see your face today?”

“I wanted to see yours.” He drew back and sat on the edge of her desk. “I had a good time on Saturday, and Beaudry needed these dropped off. I thought this was a great excuse to flirt in the daylight.”

Kelsey laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I definitely agree.” Her smile faded slightly as she looked back at the memo she’d been handed shortly before he’d arrived. “I guess you guys got a copy of this at the PCPD.” She held it out to him.

Lucky scanned it, grimacing as he did. “Yeah, Taggert hit the roof. I mean, Mac told him not to get his hopes up. Floyd was never going to allow the public to know there’s a serial rapist in the park. Not during the summer in an election year.” He shook his head. “We’re still waiting to hear from the city council about overtime and lab work requests.”

“Yeah, I saw the dinosaur policy. No processing rape kits without a suspect?” Kelsey snorted. “Maybe that made financial sense ten years ago, but the CODIS database is extensive now. I’ll talk to Scott. Maybe he can find the money in our budget.” She wrinkled her nose. “But what took Taggert so long to make the request?”

“He just made the link yesterday—” Lucky frowned. “Didn’t he? He took the cases from Vinnie—”

“I talked to Vinnie Esposito in June. Just after I took over. I brought up the Watson and Norton case.” Kelsey scowled. “You’re telling me he didn’t make the link official? Not even after Morris on the second?”

“No, I guess not. I didn’t know about Watson until yesterday.” Lucky leaned back, out of her way, as Kelsey shoved herself out of her seat.

She stalked the length of the office, then whirled to stab a finger at Lucky. “This is bullshit. The DA’s office made this link two weeks ago. We could already have security in place—I told Scott about this after the Morris case came in.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “It’s my fault. It’s _my_ division. I should have kept the pressure on Vinnie, followed up—”

“Hey—” Lucky crossed to her, taking her by the shoulders. “Hey. You’ve been here for a _month_, Kelsey. And you’ve already cleared half the cases in the office. It’s not your job to make sure the PCPD does theirs. We should be able to trust each other—”

“It’s just—” Kelsey took a deep breath. “I might be in over my head here, you know? I—I just got my license, and I’m it—I’m the only lawyer. It’s not even a real division. I’m doing everything—” She let her head fall forward into his chest. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He tugged her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Maybe then you can understand how something like this can slip through the cracks. Up until Taggert transferred and took over the division, Vinnie was the only investigating officer in Major Crimes. Beaudry isn’t much more than a glorified patrol cop. Even the best cop would miss something, and I think we can both admit Vinnie’s not much of a cop.”

“No, he’s definitely not.” She let herself stay in his arms for another minute before drawing back. “Whining about it doesn’t change anything,” she told him. “I can’t magically convince more people to transfer or join the DA’s office. I did clear a lot of those pending cases, so I can be on top of this case now. And I’ll talk to Scott. We’ll get more resources.”

“Listen.” Lucky ran his hands down her arms, from the shoulders to the elbows, then back again. “Taggert put me on this case officially today. He wants it to be the only thing I work on. We’ll do it together, okay?” He nodded back towards her desk, where the memo from the mayor’s office lay. “If there’s another attack, the PCPD might try to blame someone. They might go after you. The mayor might go after you. So, save that memo. Write down everything.”

“I just don’t know if I could live with myself if something happened to another woman because I didn’t do enough,” Kelsey admitted. She squared her shoulders. “But I can’t let that hold me back. I’ll use it as a motivation.”

“Good.” He cupped her chin in one hand and kissed her again. “I’m on call tonight at the station, but tomorrow, I’ll be at the club. Come by. Bring the files. We’ll go over it while I work.”

“Okay.” She kissed him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Old Stone Bridge**

When Jason pulled the bike to a stop that evening, Elizabeth climbed off and wordlessly handed him the helmet to stow on the back of the bike.

Things had been awkward between them all day long, since Jason had been almost a half hour late for breakfast, and then when he’d returned after work for another awkward dinner.

He didn’t know how to fix this silence between them without telling her what was bothering him, and Sonny was right. Telling her would only create more problems. He’d done something stupid and it was his burden to bear.

Elizabeth didn’t want Tom Baker in her head, and it wasn’t up to Jason to change that.

She leaned over the edge of the bridge, her elbows resting on the cream-colored stone. “It’s been a while since we came here.”

“Yeah, I guess we’ve just gone to Vista Point a lot lately. I thought—” Jason leaned his back against the bridge, looking down at the roughened surface of the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Elizabeth twisted halfway so she was looking at him.

“You’re right. I don’t…really talk about what’s in my head unless someone…I guess force is the best word.”

“Jason, I don’t expect you to tell me everything,” she said after a moment. “But—”

“When something is bothering me,” Jason said slowly, “you want to make it stop. And if I don’t tell you, you can’t fix it.”

She smiled then, a bit of the warmth he’d missed all day seeping back into her expression. “Yeah, something like that. Not that I think I _could _fix things, but—”

Jason didn’t want to tell her about his visit with Baker. What the man had said. He couldn’t do that to her, but maybe there was a middle ground. A way to at least…broach the subject and see if she really didn’t want to know. “The day you moved out of the house, you got a letter.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shuttered and all emotion disappeared. She looked away, out over the gorge. “Yeah.”

“You crumpled it up and threw it. When I got the box off the ground…I took the letter,” Jason admitted.

She was quiet for a long moment, squeezing her eyes shut. “Okay.” She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, but still didn’t look at him. “Okay. Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said immediately. She looked at him now. “I don’t _ever_ want to know. I don’t care if he’s getting out on parole. Okay? _I don__’t want to know_. I just want to forget about the letter. I don’t care what he wrote.” Her words came so fast, they were nearly tumbling over each other. “He has to stay gone.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Jason.” She tugged on his arm so he was facing her. “This isn’t something you can fix. You can’t make it so it never happened. I need you to promise me you’ll destroy it. That you’ll forget.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Jason admitted, his words low and tense. “I’m sorry. I can’t lie to you.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm, her nails almost digging into his skin. “Why? No, don’t answer that. Don’t—” She shook her head. “Okay, so you’ve been feeling guilty about not telling me you read the letter. Okay.” Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. “Okay. Thank you. It’s done now.” She started back towards the bike.

“Elizabeth—”

“Tom Baker raped me before we ever met,” she said as she spun on her heel to look back at him. “It has _nothing_ to do with you. It’s over. I made it over a long time ago, and you’re not going to make me think about it again.”

“Okay,” Jason said after a long moment. He dragged one of his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded sharply. “Okay. I mean, I get it. You—” Elizabeth’s breath was shaky. “And maybe it’s wrong to not know. Not read it. But I think _I__’m_ the one who gets to decide what I can’t handle.”

He waited a moment. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I have enough to deal with right now, okay? I almost died two weeks ago. I married a psychopath who fed me drugs and nearly killed me, and I lost a baby. I just—I can’t let Baker in my head again. I can’t. I put him away a long time ago, and I don’t care what he’s saying now.”

She wrapped her arms around her torso, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms. Make it go away.

Make her feel safe.

But _he__’d_ done this. He’d brought this out in her. Just like Sonny had said—wanting to be honest with her had hurt her. There was no way in hell Jason would tell her now that he’d gone to see Baker. Or what he’d said. Not unless he had proof.

“Let’s just go, okay?” she asked. “Can we go? And…take the cliff roads? I really don’t want to think anymore.”

“Yeah.” He approached her, stopped in front of her. “I’m sorry—”

“No, I badgered you until you told me.” Elizabeth peered up at him. “I’m not…I’m not mad at you. Not really. I wish you hadn’t done it, but—” She leaned into him, sliding her arms around his waist. Jason took his first easy breath of the night and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on top of her head. They stood there, like that, for a while.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

“I know. That matters, Jason.” She drew back and with a slightly forced smile, said, “Let’s go nowhere. Fast.”

“You got it.”

**Harwin Theater: Sidewalk Entrance**

Brooke had had high hopes for this night. She thought she’d made a good attempt making peace between herself and Dillon’s group of friends, as well as maybe even beginning a friendship with Lucas and Georgie.

Halfway through the double feature of Bette Davis movies, the night had collapsed in catastrophe. Not that it had gotten off to a great start. Maxie had decided not to tell Kyle that they were joining everyone else for the movies, and her boyfriend had been pretty steamed when they arrived.

Lucas had said something sarcastic that Brooke hadn’t really paid attention to, possibly insulting the size of Kyle’s penis which Kyle had taken exception to.

Somehow, Dillon had created peace between the two of them and the group had gone inside to buy tickets and concessions. They’d put Kyle and Lucas on opposite sides of the group as they had taken up half a row on their own.

But then as _Jezebel _got going, Maxie started to complain about the black and white film, just as Dillon had predicted. Lucas overheard and told Maxie she had shitty taste in movies and men. Kyle hadn’t liked the insult to him or his girlfriend and lunged to his feet.

Which sent his soda flying all over Maxie, who screeched, and the customer in the front row who had stood, turned, and clocked Kyle in the mouth.

Dillon had started to laugh; Georgie had yelled at him. Lucas had yelled at Georgie—

And before Brooke knew it, their feuding group had been sent outside.

“You’re just an asshole who likes to ruin things for everyone else!” Georgie told Kyle with a stomp of her foot.

“Oh, really? It was your boyfriend’s dumb idea to come to this stupid movie,” Maxie shot back, her cheeks flushed with anger. “We have color for a reason! It’s called progress.”

“It’s called _culture_,” Dillon snarled, because_ no one_ attacked Bette Davis.

“You’re a fucking asshole for ruining this,” Lucas shot at Kyle, who took a swing.

Brooke sighed, checked her watch, and eyed the park across the street. If she remembered right, on the other side of the park there was a bus stop that would take her past the Quartermaine mansion. She could cut through in ten minutes and be home before any of these idiots realized she was gone.

She slid away from the arguing teenagers and crossed the street diagonally, heading for the north entrance to the park. It had been a long time since she’d walked through the park—but she knew it was faster than going around.

And she smelled like soda and popcorn, thanks to the goddamn food fight.

Brooke ambled down the stone paths, past a fountain, as she neared the center of the park. She wished now she had packed her iPod in her purse, but Dillon had convinced her to leave her safety net behind. She didn’t know why she listened to him—the fact that she was out here was mostly his fault.

It was clear that Kyle and Lucas hated each other, that nearly everyone had a poor opinion of Maxie’s boyfriend, so why did anyone bother?

Brooke passed the center of the park about ten minutes into the walk, smirking at the thought of the others. Had they noticed she was gone yet? Or maybe they wouldn’t notice at all. Maybe she was such a new addition, they wouldn’t even realize she’d left.

They barely knew she’d been there in the first place.

“Son of—” Brooke muttered as her shoelace, apparently having become untied, became trapped under her shoe, causing her to stumble and fly forward.

Her knee hit a sharp stone, and she glanced up at the fountain in front of her. Wincing as she climbed to her feet, she limped over to the bench and studied it. How many fountains were in this damn park? Had she gotten turned around?

Brooke examined the broken skin on her knee and the blood slowly oozing from the scrape, visible through the carefully torn jeans. “Well, this is definitely your life,” she muttered. “When you think things can’t get worse, they usually do.” It was going to hurt like hell to walk the rest of the way to the bus stop. Maybe she could call her father at a payphone or stop at the Port Charles Hotel. Her family owned it and it was just a few blocks down from the bus stop on Central Avenue.

She never had the chance to make that decision.

A hand clamped around her mouth, and Brooke jumped, shoved herself forward, but whoever had grabbed her had already snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her backward.

She was being lifted in the air—she tried to scream, tried to force sound through the fingers pressed against her mouth. She kicked, she dug with her hands at the weight behind her. And then bit down hard on the fingers—

She heard a growl, and then her back hit the ground with a thud. “Bitch!” a voice snarled, and then her head snapped back as his hand slapped her. He gripped her hair, then slammed her head against the ground.

Dizzy, with her ears ringing, Brooke felt herself being shoved onto her stomach, then cold, metal snapped around her wrists. In her fear, in her terror, she thought—was she being arrested?

No. No, now he flipped her back and she tried to look up, tried to focus on the man on top of her. Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t breathe. “Help!”

She only managed one yelp before he slapped her again and something sticky was pressed against her mouth. _Oh, God, Oh, God make it stop._

Brooke continued to struggle, tried to fight back—

He slammed her head against the ground once more, and everything tilted. Oh, it hurt so much—she heard the pull of a zipper—her jeans being pulled down—

She kicked out wildly, knew she’d connected when she heard an _oomph_. She rolled over, trying to crawl away—but he yanked her back by her hair until her head was next to his. “Not a word,” he murmured in her ear.

He threw her back to the ground, curled his hand into a fist again and punched her. Her vision exploded into a field of red—

And then he was on top of her and she couldn’t move. His heavy weight, his labored breathing, and the smell of soap permeated Brooke’s senses as she tried buck away—his fingers curled into her thigh, bare now that he had managed to drag her jeans off her. She screamed beneath the gag.

_Oh, God. No, no—make it stop. Daddy. Someone. Someone_ _…_


	5. Chapter Twenty-Four

_Why'd you have to wait?_  
_Where were you, where were you?_  
_Just a little late_  
_You found me, you found me_  
_Why'd you have to wait_  
_To find me?_  
_To find me?_  
\- You Found Me, The Fray

* * *

_Tuesday, July 15, 2003_

**Port Charles Park **

If anything happened to Brooke, his brother would make his life a living hell.

This had been the reasoning that Dillon offered to Kyle and Lucas when they had stopped fighting long enough to notice Brooke was gone.

Kyle had smirked, and Lucas had rolled his eyes, because that was clearly_ Dillon__’s_ problem. Well, bastards, it was _going_ to be _their_ problem, because Ned was a Quartermaine.

And Quartermaines were really good at revenge.

Maxie and Georgie had agreed to get into Maxie’s car and drive around the park while the three guys had split the park into thirds, planning to meet on the sidewalk at the other side.

“You got your cell phones, right?” Dillon asked as they stood at the entrance of the park and at the division of the pathways. “They’re charged?”

“How dumb do you think I am—” Kyle held his hand up as Lucas opened his mouth. “Don’t say it. Never mind. We’re in a crisis here. Let’s knock this shit off until we find Brooke.” He checked his watch. “Maxie and Georgie should be at the bus stop right now—”

“And they haven’t called yet, so she’s probably in the park,” Lucas said, craning his neck with a grimace. “It’s a big park, do you think she got lost? I mean, how often did she visit growing up?”

“Not a lot. Okay, I’ll go straight down the middle,” Dillon told them, feeling better that the other two were more concerned. “Kyle, take the far left, Lucas, the far right. We’ll meet at the bus stop.”

“Okay.” Lucas took a deep breath. “She’s probably lost,” he repeated.

The trio divided and Dillon started his trek through the center of the park. He called Brooke’s name every few minutes, irritated that he’d allowed the night to end in complete disaster. He’d tried to be the good guy, hadn’t he? Tried to make peace between Maxie and her boyfriend and the rest of the group. He’d tried to make Brooke give his friends a chance, but what did it get him?

Searching the damn park at eleven at night for his niece who had decided to go off on her own. When Dillon found her—

The pathways met one another at the center of the park before splitting again, and Dillon sighed when they all three reached it at about the same time. “No sign?”

“Not a peep. Did you try her phone?” Kyle asked.

“Her parents took it as a punishment,” Dillon said. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be bringing _that_ up in some great detail when Ned is blaming me for losing his kid.” He gestured to the path. “Let’s keep going.”

Five minutes later, Dillon reached the fountain that rested near the south entrance to the park—just twenty feet from the bus stop. He stared down at the ground—at the single sneaker laying on its side near the bench.

He knew that sneaker—the bright electric yellow high-top—Brooke had worn those shoes that night, and he’d pointed out it was so bright they would get kicked out of the theater. She’d just rolled her eyes—

Dillon’s heart started to pound—could you actually hear the sound of your own heart? He fumbled in his pockets for his phone and shakily—he found Lucas’s number in his contacts.

“Lucas.”

“You found her?”

“I don’t—I found her sneaker.” Dillon swallowed hard. “I haven’t—I didn’t look any further.”

“Where?”

“The south fountain—”

“I’ll meet you there.”

He placed a similar call to Kyle, put his phone back in his pocket and just stood there, listening to the water trickle down in the fountain. “Brooke?” he called, his voice trembling. “Brooke?”

Nothing.

Maybe she’d lost the shoe and was now, limping her way to the bus stop, cursing—but Dillon couldn’t think of any way someone could lose their sneaker that didn’t end in…

He’d watched too many movies. That’s all this was.

Lucas appeared, running towards him, breathing hard as he drew to a stop. He cleared his throat as he, too, saw the sneaker. “Dillon—”

Kyle arrived and the three of them stared at the sneaker for another long moment. “The girls haven’t called, have they?” Kyle asked, his voice subdued.

“No.” Lucas squeezed his hands into fists. “Should we call the police—”

Dillon took a deep breath. “No, I just—I didn’t want to be alone if I—” He met their eyes, these two men who had been at each other’s throats earlier. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“So, let’s look,” Lucas said, putting a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. As a group they began a search of the bushes and trees around the fountain—

It didn’t take them more than two minutes to find her.

Her jeans tossed beside her, her t-shirt in shreds, and her other sneaker peeking out from under a bush.

Her legs with scratches and blood—Dillon’s heart seized. Her legs laid open. Oh, God.

“Is she—” Kyle asked with a waver in his voice.

The pre-med Lucas took a deep breath and moved forward. With shaky fingers he reached for Brooke’s pale slim arm, placed two fingers at her wrist. After a moment, he nodded. “There’s a pulse. Call—call 911.”

He backed away and stopped Kyle as he started to approach. “Don’t touch her. Don’t touch anything. You’ll mess up the scene.” He met Dillon’s eyes as Dillon put his phone to his ear. “Tell them she’s unconscious, her pulse is faint, and that she’s been sexually assaulted.”

**Port Charles Park**

It was Taggert’s worst nightmare. Another attack in the park before the city council had had a chance to approve extra security. After the mayor had denied them the chance to warn the public. Taggert had hoped for more time, for a longer cooling off period.

But this guy had gone from eleven weeks to five to two. Would there be another victim this week? Next? How was Taggert supposed to protect the public if he wasn’t given the tools?

And the identity made everything worse. The granddaughter of the town’s most powerful and ruthless family. Not that it mattered to Taggert, but it would matter to the Quartermaines. It would matter to the mayor, to Mac, to the press—

Even if Brooke’s name was kept quiet, he knew the shit had hit the fan. They’d never be able to keep the _Herald _from printing the story. Which might be the only sliver of good news he’d find in this tragedy.

Taggert pulled the car to screeching halt at the south entrance to the Port Charles Park, his siren still wailing. He switched off the ignition, looked at the pale countenance of Lucky Spencer in the seat next to him. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Lucky nodded. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. We need to—we need to get this guy, Taggert. Four women in six months—”

“Yeah, I know.”

They got out of the car and hurried the short distance between the entrance and the fountain, where they found a group of teenagers clustered. Taggert recognized the commissioner’s daughters standing with a trio of boys. Georgie had buried her head in Dillon Quartermaine’s chest, as her sister clung to a boy he didn’t recognize. Off to the side, Lucas Jones stood somberly, staring at the bushes.

Taggert’s attention was drawn to the stone bench and something rolled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced at the fountain, at the bench, and then at Lucky, who seemed to be coming to the same realization. He hadn’t made the connection when he’d gotten the call, had only heard the bare details.

But now he remembered another young girl’s life destroyed in those bushes.

Beyond them, the crime scene unit had already arrived along with paramedics. Brooke Lynn Ashton had been loaded into a stretcher, a white cotton sheet pulled up to her chin. Behind her, a tech had plastic bags filled with cloth that resembled clothing, sneakers, and a purse.

“I want to go with her,” Dillon said. “I didn’t call Ned yet, but I want to go with her.” He stared at Taggert, almost defiant. “I’m her family—”

“Lucky,” Taggert said. “Take Dillon to the hospital. Get me a statement, okay?”

Lucky nodded. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay. What about the notification—”

“Mac is already on his way to notify Ned.” Taggert put a hand on Lucky’s shoulders. “I know where we are, man. Put it away for now.”

“Yeah.” Lucky cleared his throat. He looked at Dillon. “C’mon, I’ll drive you in the car. We’ll probably beat the ambulance there.”

Dillon murmured something to Georgie who nodded and then broke away from her, following Lucky out of the park. Lucas stepped forward to put an arm around Georgie’s shoulder.

Taggert approached those who were left. “What happened tonight?” he asked. He generally didn’t like group statements, but there was little doubt that none of these kids were involved, and they needed to stick together.

The dark-haired boy with Maxie cleared his throat, stepped forward. “I’m Kyle Radcliffe. Um, we went to the movies—the Harwin—” he gestured behind him, in the direction of the theater. “It was a double feature. It started around nine, I think. But we, ah, got kicked out around ten-thirty.”

Taggert lifted his brows. “Okay.”

“We were fighting outside,” Maxie said, miserably. Her voice sounded thick as though she’d been crying. “All of us, except Brooke. I guess she got bored or mad, and decided to go. We didn’t—” she sucked in a deep sob. “We didn’t notice.”

“She knows all the bus stops in Port Charles,” Lucas offered, dully. “She doesn’t have a car, and she’s used to them from being in the city. She’s taken the bus from Central a lot because it has a route past the Quartermaine estate.”

“So, we thought maybe she’d gone through the park,” Kyle picked up the story. “Maxie and Georgie got in the car, went looking on the sidewalks, and we divided up the park.”

“How did you end up here together?”

“Dillon saw Brooke’s sneaker out here.” Lucas gestured. “And he didn’t—” He swallowed hard. “He didn’t want to find her alone. He called us both, and we came to meet him. And then we found her.” His voice faltered. “Um, her clothes were torn and scattered all around her. Her other sneaker—and she had bruises and cuts—um, her—” He shook his head.

“We thought maybe she’d been hurt…” Kyle continued another swallow. “Because her jeans were off—and her legs were…anyway, we called 911, and then I called Maxie. I didn’t want them out there alone.”

“We came here and waited for the cops,” Georgie said. She sniffled. “Can we go? I want to go to the hospital. I want to check on her.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll probably have to sit down for a more formal statement, but yeah.” Taggert watched as the group filed out of the park, then turned to the crime scene techs. “Frankie, what do we got?”

“We got clothes, we got sneakers. Not much else.” Frankie shrugged. “Kids are right, though. She was likely raped or there was an attempt. We found her underwear in shreds near the jeans. He really did a number on her.”

“Fantastic.” Taggert scrubbed his hands over his face, a sour feeling settling in his abdomen. It was only going to get worse.

**Quartermaine Estate: Study**

Ned grimaced and looked at his mother’s tired face as she stared at the report he’d just handed her. He looked at his grandfather, who looked impossibly old. They were surrounded by paperwork, similar reports. All of them with the same results. “We’ll have to do an immediate recall.”

“I know.” Tracy leaned back, folded her hands in her lap. “I wish I could say we only used the latex in the one product, but—”

“If we get out of ahead of this—” Edward cleared his throat, but he looked every bit his of eighty-five years. “So far we’ve only located one damaged shipment. One batch of faulty latex. You’ve already tracked the lot numbers, the products that have been shipped?”

“I have,” Tracy said. She looked at Ned. “It’s not a lot, but I’m worried if we don’t do a full recall of all the products, we might miss something. This isn’t something I want to play around with.”

“I know. Neither do I—” Ned glanced up as there was a knock on the door. He frowned, then traded troubled looks with his mother and grandfather. Every member of the family knew they were closeted in here on dire ELQ business.

To interrupt them meant an emergency.

Ned left Edward and Tracy at the conference table and crossed to the door, finding a sleepy, worried Reginald. Their butler retired when Lila did, keeping the same schedule as the woman he cared for. “Reggie?’

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ashton, I know you said you couldn’t be disturbed, but Mac Scorpio said it was an emergency—”

Ned’s hand, wrapped around the brass doorknob, tightened. He knew Mac, of course, but they were not friends, and there was no reason for the commissioner of the Port Charles Police Department to be visiting him this time of the evening. He swallowed hard and followed Reginald into the foyer where a somber Mac Scorpio was waiting.

He was only dimly aware of his mother and grandfather following him.

“Brooke,” he managed. “My daughter.” Because why else would Mac ask for him after eleven at night?

Mac took a deep breath and nodded. “Dillon and a few friends found her in the park. She’s alive—” he hastened to add when Ned started forward. “But she’s hurt.”

“Hurt—”

Monica stepped out of the family room, followed by Alan where they usually shared a night cap before retiring for the evening. “What’s going on—”

“Brooke’s been hurt,” Tracy said quickly, putting a hand on Ned’s arm. “You said Dillon found her in the park—”

“They were supposed to be at the movies,” Monica murmured. “They—” She gratefully gripped Alan’s hand when he offered it to her. “What happened?”

“We don’t know yet,” Mac admitted. “She was unconscious, and she’d been beaten.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath as Edward pushed forward. “How can you not know _anything_—”

“Father,” Tracy murmured. “Hush. Because it’s just happened.” She looked at Mac. “Was she—was she—” She couldn’t force the words out, and Monica paled. Ned frowned at his mother, saw that his grandfather and Alan also looked mystified.

“Based on the initial report,” Mac said slowly, “we think so.” He looked at Ned, shook his head. “We suspect, in addition to the physical assault, your daughter was—”

Ned threw up a hand. “No. No. Don’t—you don’t—” Because now he knew what why Tracy and Monica had looked so concerned. His little girl. His baby.

Tracy closed her eyes. “Okay, Ned, we’ll go to the hospital. Right now. Father, you should be here when Grandmother wakes up.”

“I’m going to the hospital, too,” Alan declared.

“I have to—” Ned shook his head. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think straight. His little girl. Attacked. Hurt. Violated. “Lois.”

“I’ll call Lois,” Monica said immediately. “I’ll help her make arrangements to get here.”

“Okay.” Ned nodded. “Okay.” He still didn’t move, couldn’t until his mother pressed gently on his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s go.”

**Cruz & Dante** **’s Apartment: Dante’s Bedroom**

Dante had just drifted to sleep after pulling a double shift when his door swung open and the bright lights of the living room woke him.

“Hey, what the fuck man!”

“Sorry—” Cruz grimaced. “But I wanted to—Lucky just called because you—you know her.” He paused. “Brooke Lynn Ashton was just found beaten and unconscious in the park.”

Dante jackknifed into a sitting position. “What? What? What are you—” He shook his head trying to clear the fogginess of the sleep. “_What_ are you saying?”

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Cruz told him. “I figured—”

Dante just stared at him for a long moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I know her,” he managed. He got to his feet. “Beaten and unconscious in the park,” he repeated. “Wait.”

“Yeah, Lucky didn’t say for sure because he was with Dillon Quartermaine who found him, but it was near a fountain.” Cruz paused and nodded. “Like the others.”

“Fuck me.” Dante fell back onto his bed. “I gotta call my ma. She’s close with Brooke’s ma and—Christ. A fucking serial rapist and we’re not allowed to tell anyone, hey don’t walk through the park if you’re a young woman with brown hair—”

He lunged to his feet and slammed his fist on the dresser, cracking the cheap plywood. “This fucking city!”

“You want to go to the hospital?” Cruz asked after a long moment. “Be with the family—”

“No.” Dante shook his head. “No. I want to go down to the station and rip my fucking cousin’s head off. That lazy son of a bitch refused to say they were one guy—_refused_—and Mac insisted on waiting for permission—” He clenched his jaw. “And now Brooke is paying for it. Well, fuck this.”

He reached for his phone and dialed for information. “Yeah, I need the number for the _Port Charles Herald_.” He reached for a stub of a pencil and started to write.

“Dante, think about this,” Cruz said, crossing the room rapidly, trying to stop Dante from dialing the number he scrawled out on a napkin. “If you tell the press—”

“What, I’ll lose my job?” Dante demanded. “Did Capelli lose his damn job when he nearly got an innocent woman killed? Fuck this. I got into this to protect people, not cover asses.” He jammed every number in. “This city only understands pressure. Change ain’t gonna happen if we shove our heads into the sand. We gotta _make_ it happen.”

“Dante—we don’t know anything—”

“Yeah, I need Jessica Mitchell,” Dante said, naming the reporter on the crime beat. “I know it’s late. Can you just see if she’s still there? I got an anonymous tip for her.”

_Wednesday, July 16, 2003_

**Condo: Bedroom**

It was just after midnight when Elizabeth’s cell phone began to chirp, pulling her out of a fitful sleep. She sighed, sat up, and reached for the phone charging near her bed.

“This better be good,” she grumbled.

“Liz? I’m so sorry for calling this late. Maybe I should have waited, but I was worried you’d hear about it in the papers because I bet the press is already sniffing it out—”

“Em, Em—” Elizabeth folded her legs underneath her. “Slow down. What’s wrong?”

“My cousin Brooke? She was just…I don’t know if you know her.”

“Yeah, she’s been my waitress a few times at Kelly’s—” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes. “She’s okay, right?”

“God. I don’t think so. I’m stuck here, can’t get out of here—I am so _sick_ of this program—”

“Emily.”

“Dillon found her in the park. She was unconscious and hurt pretty bad.” Emily swallowed hard. “And Mom said they think she’s been sexually assaulted.”

“In the park,” Elizabeth repeated. She closed her eyes. “Where in the park?”

“Near the fountain on the south side. Mom said the press already knows somehow—they’re not supposed to report Brooke’s name, but they’re already at the house—I was afraid it would be in the papers—and I just—I wanted you—”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth cut in. “I appreciate it. I’ve been—Thank you.”

She and Emily spoke for a few more moments before they hung up. Elizabeth switched on the lamp next to her bed, unable to handle the shadows in the corners.

The fountain at the south side of the park. The same place where Elizabeth’s world had been broken into pieces only five years earlier.

She didn’t think about it too hard as she pressed a speed dial on her phone. It took a few moments, but a voice came over the line—Jason didn’t sound groggy, and she wondered if he’d had problems sleeping, too, after their conversation at the bridge.

“Hey. I’m sorry—”

“Are you okay? Don’t worry about it—”

“I, um—” Her tears spilled over now. It was in her head now, and she was terrified she might never ever be able to get rid of it. To put it away again. “Ned’s daughter, Brooke—she was raped in the park. At the same place—”

“I’ll be right there, okay? I’m coming over.”

She didn’t even bother to argue with him. She wanted to feel safe, and right now, that meant Jason.

**General Hospital: Emergency Room**

It was almost surreal, Ned thought, as he sat on a hard plastic chair in the emergency room. He felt as though he were floating above his body. Was he really there? Was he really waiting to hear about his daughter?

Was this really happening?

“Ned…” Alexis rushed in, clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. He rose to greet her, and Alexis wrapped him into a tight hug. He buried his face in her hair, but he couldn’t lose it. Not yet.

He had to keep it together.

He drew back from her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Who—”

“Monica called.” Alexis glanced at Tracy, nodded absently in greeting. “She thought you might need someone who wasn’t family. I called Jax—he’s on his way back from Europe. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Ned exhaled slowly. “They don’t know anything yet. I haven’t been able to talk to Dillon—he’s still with the police—” He drew back further and started to pace the small space, dragging his hands through his hair, clutching at the strands. “No one has told us anything about her condition—”

“Does Mac know anything yet?”

“No,” Tracy said with a shake of her head. “Not yet. Monica was supposed to contact Lois—”

“Edward already arranged for a charter flight out of LaGuardia,” Alexis murmured. “She’ll be here in a few hours.”

Tony Jones stepped out from behind a curtain, clearing his throat. Ned turned to face him, Alexis leaving a hand on his shoulder for support.

“Ned, Brooke is—” He hesitated. “She came around in the ambulance and they had to sedate her.”

Ned closed his eyes. “But she’s awake—”

“It was heavy sedation,” Tony said awkwardly. “She has a fractured cheekbone, a concussion, and sprained wrist. She also sustained a cracked rib, so we’re keeping an eye on her for internal bleeding.”

“Was she—” Tracy managed a deep breath. “The police suggested she may have been—”

“There _is_ evidence of a sexual assault,” Tony said with deep regret. “Bruising on the thighs—the PCPD is arranging for our S.A.N.E nurse to take a preliminary rape kit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ned managed as his knees gave out and he sunk back onto the chair. “Oh, God. Oh, God. What do I do?”

“I don’t mean to make it worse,” Alexis murmured as she sat next to Ned, rubbing his back. “But press is already outside, and Monica said they’d showed up at the house.”

Ned’s head snapped up, flames in his dark eyes. “What?” he demanded. “I thought the identities of sexual assault victims were protected—”

“They are, but I imagine someone leaked it,” Alexis said with a heavy sigh. “I can make some calls—”

“Do it,” Ned ordered. “I don’t want anyone—” He put his head back in his hands. “How is this happening? How can I—What do I do?”

“I wish I knew.” Alexis closed her eyes and rested her forehead on Ned’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ned. I’ll make those calls, and I’ll get them away from the house.”

“When I find out who is responsible for this,” Ned said, lifting his head to meet Alexis’s eyes. “They are going to wish they’d never been born.”

**Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth had jerked the door open almost before Jason could knock, throwing herself into his arms. She just wanted to feel safe and warm.

She wanted it to go away—to never think about her rape again.

“Hey,” Jason murmured as he gently steered her back into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He ran his hand up and down her back, his fingers warm and smooth against the thin cloth of her tank top.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy—I mean this didn’t even—” Elizabeth choked out a sob as her voice faltered. She pressed her forehead into chest, covered with a gray t-shirt. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Couldn’t really sleep,” Jason admitted. He took her hand and led her to the sofa where he sat down and she curled into his side. “You said Ned’s daughter was hurt?”

Elizabeth nodded and related the phone call she’d received. “I know Emily was trying to help,” she said. “But at the same time…I don’t know…maybe I could have avoided it.” She grimaced. “But probably not. Brooke works at Kelly’s. She knows the same people. But God, Jason, she was attacked at the same place. How is that possible?”

Jason seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It probably didn’t help that I told you tonight that—”

“I wish I could blame it on you,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “But the truth is that I’ve been thinking about the rape since before I got that letter.”

Jason frowned at her, shook his head. “Why? What—” He clenched his jaw. “Ric.”

“I think the first time he drugged me was the night I—” Her stomach rolled as she tried to continue. “I don’t—I don’t remember wanting to—but he had been at the viewing and I was tired. I didn’t really want to go home, and he told me he had a room upstairs in case I hadn’t wanted to go home. He gave me some wine, and then—I don’t know. I woke up the next morning, and I just—” She winced as she saw the banked fury in Jason’s eyes. “I knew we’d slept together, but I just…didn’t remember why. I thought I was just sad and lonely. We weren’t together a lot, but I always remember wine or something else he’d brought to eat.”

“He drugged you to—” The muscles in the arm around her tightened until it felt like she was being embraced by concrete. And then, as if it cost him, Jason took a deep breath, relaxed his arm. “Have you talked to Gail about it?” he said finally.

“No. I guess I just—I wasn’t ready to think about it—because I know that’s—” Elizabeth pressed her face into his side, trying to find the courage to say it aloud. “I know that it means Ric raped me.”

She felt his hand clench into a fist. She leaned up, unwound his arm from around her, and took his clenched fist between her own hands. “I’m sorry, Jason. I should—”

“No, this—it didn’t happen to me,” Jason said after a moment. “I’m sorry. I just—I know he went after you because we’d been together. That doesn’t make it my fault, but I wish like hell—” He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it. “You should talk to Gail. It’s not that I don’t want to hear it,” he added. “It’s just—”

“You love me,” she murmured, “and it hurts you to hear me talk about things that hurt me.” She kissed his knuckles until his hand loosened. “Yeah. I think between admitting that out loud, the letter, and what happened with Brooke—I think I should talk to Gail.” She waited a long moment. “Will you—will you stay tonight? Not to—I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah…” Jason nodded with a raspy tone to his voice. “Yeah, I can stay.”


	6. Chapter Twenty-Five

_I am so ashamed, _  
_I am so ashamed of all the trouble I have caused _  
_I am so ashamed of all these unopened doors _  
_I am so ashamed of what I have become_  
\- You Will Leave a Mark, Silent Film

* * *

_Wednesday, July 16, 2003_

**General Hospital: Conference Room**

Lucky pressed a mug of bad hospital coffee into the younger man’s hands and took a seat across from him. “Are you ready to give a statement now?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Dillon took a deep breath. “Sorry. I know that you guys are just trying to help. I—” He shook his head. “I’m such a fucking coward,” he muttered. “I let her sit in those bushes because I couldn’t do it alone—”

“Hey.” Lucky looked at the miserable brown eyes of the boy sitting across from him and…God, he _knew_ what Dillon was feeling. Without even trying to pull at piece of his memory—

Lucky could remember that shock of discovery, that crushing guilt, that miserable feeling of knowing that no matter what you did, you could never go back. You could never make it unhappen.

He dipped his head, trying to focus. Hell of a time to have memories and emotions rush into his head, into his heart. _Use them. Make the connection._

“You waited, what, two extra minutes, Dillon?” Lucky said quietly. “What did that change? Did it make it less awful? I can tell you—” He hesitated. “You’re what, eighteen?”

“Almost nineteen,” Dillon muttered. “Why?”

“I was a little younger than you when I found Elizabeth.” Dillon’s head snapped up at that. “About sixteen, I guess. It was winter. Valentine’s Day. I’d promised that I’d go to the dance with her, but we’d meant it just as friends.”

Lucky managed a half smile. “I knew better. I knew she had a crush on me. But I wanted her sister. When Sarah asked me, I abandoned Elizabeth without a backward glance.” He’d never been able to tell Elizabeth before—that part of the reason he’d agreed to go with Sarah was that he hadn’t wanted to lead Elizabeth on.

“Elizabeth decided to save face, I guess, and made up a date so it would all work out. I don’t know if I believed her. I know I _wanted_ to.” Lucky tipped his head. “But she never came to the dance, and it turns out the Sarah I wanted existed only in my head. All I could think about the entire night was Elizabeth. I got worried about her—she always knew how to get herself into trouble, so I went looking.”

“And you found her—” Dillon swallowed. “Like Brooke—”

“Not exactly. It was actually—” Lucky rubbed his chest, remembering that horrible moment, that stunned terror as he realized the whimpering sounds were Elizabeth as she crawled through the brush. “She was still conscious. He hadn’t—he hadn’t hurt her the same way.” But he sure had destroyed her. “She crawled out of the bushes, and she didn’t even recognize me. When she did, she tried to pretend nothing happened. Like she wasn’t bruised, her dress torn, her shoes broken—” He drew in a shuddering breath. “Anyway. For a long time, I lived with the knowledge if I had just _gone_ to the damn dance with her—”

“Yeah.” Dillon closed his eyes. “Does that go away?” he asked. “You don’t still feel guilty?”

“I got brainwashed by the Cassadines a few times,” Lucky admitted. “And it played with my memories. The way I think about things. And until this minute…I hadn’t been able to remember what happened to her. Not the same way.” And it felt freeing to say that out loud. “But looking at you, knowing what you’re thinking, it’s coming back for me.” He paused. “I don’t know if the guilt will ever go away.”

“Brooke was a real pain in the ass when she moved here six weeks ago,” Dillon said after a long moment. “Just a raging jackass who never had anything nice to say and got pleasure out of making everyone else miserable, you know? I avoided her like the plague.” He sipped the coffee.

“That changed a few weeks ago. Monica kind of snapped at her, something I don’t think anyone else had done. And I guess—it made Brooke decide to try harder. She got a job at Kelly’s, and Georgie and Lucas were coming around.” Dillon paused. “So Lucas invited her to the movies tonight. This was supposed to be our chance to just hang out. To have fun. But Maxie’s boyfriend is an idiot—” He looked away. “He was a stand-up guy tonight, though. So maybe Maxie’s right. Maybe we just don’t know him that well.”

“You were at the Harwin?”

“Yeah, it was a Bette Davis double feature. _Jezebel_ and _Of Human Bondage_. I’m kind of obsessed with old movies,” Dillon confessed. “Georgie tries, but I know everyone was bored. And they were in black and white. I should have picked something else, but it was my turn, you know? Lucas and Kyle were arguing even before we went in, but we got almost through _Jezebel_ before Maxie started complaining, then Lucas said something, and Kyle spilled his soda on some guy who punched him—” Dillon shook his head. “We got kicked out.”

“Brooke wasn’t in on the fight?” Lucky asked, scribbling something on his notepad. “This guy who punched Kyle—”

“Oh, _he_ got to stay,” Dillon said sourly. “Because he’s an adult. Whatever. Um, we kept fighting outside. I don’t know how long we were out there when we noticed Brooke was gone.” He managed a weak smile. “I was defending Bette Davis’s honor.”

“Do you think Brooke left on purpose?” Lucky asked. “Could she have seen someone she knows?”

“I doubt it. Brooke really doesn’t know a lot of people here. I know she’s been working at Kelly’s, but—she’s not a really friendly person.” Dillon winced. “That sounds bad. What I mean is—she’s not immediately friendly. Once you get to know her, it’s better. No, I’m pretty sure Brooke went off on her own. There’s a bus stop on Central Avenue, a few blocks from the hotel. She’s taken it before—it goes right past the mansion.”

“Which explains why she was on the south side of the park.” And so close to the bus stop. “Okay, so walk me through realizing she’s gone.”

“It was Lucas who realized it,” Dillon said. “He looked around and she wasn’t there. Um, we got worried right away because Brooke hasn’t lived here long. I mean, I’ve only been here like four more months, but still, it’s longer.” He cleared his throat. “But I figured she’d head for the bus stop. Maxie and Georgie didn’t want to walk in the park, so they volunteered to drive to the bus stop, to see if Brooke went around.”

Lucky hesitated. “Was there a reason they didn’t want to walk in the park?”

“I don’t know, I think their dad—their stepdad, I mean—he said something about the park after dark or something.” Dillon frowned. “I don’t know. They didn’t say anything. Why?”

“Just trying to get a better picture. So, you split up."

“Yeah, then me, Lucas, and Kyle took the park. Brooke didn’t have a phone on her, so we just kind of walked the paths—separate areas—and I got to the fountain and I saw her shoe.” Dillon’s jaw trembled slightly. “I didn’t—I froze. And I just—I was so goddamn _scared_ I was about to find her dead, and I didn’t want to do that alone.”

“I don’t blame you, Dillon.” Lucas looked down at his notepad. “What time you do think you got kicked out?”

“Oh. Well, the movie started at like nine. We got kicked out at around ten-thirty.”

And the call had come in at 11:03 p.m. that evening. “How long you do think you were fighting outside the theater before you noticed she was gone?”

“Maybe five minutes,” Dillon said with a shake of his head. “But I don’t know. I don’t know the time, but I can tell you what scene we got kicked out at, and maybe theater knows exactly when they started it. Would that help?”

“We’re just trying to narrow down time frames for security footage.” Lucky tapped his fingers against the pad. “Is there anything else?”

“No, um, but is Brooke…” Dillon trailed off. “I just want to go check on Brooke. Can I go?” He got to his feet when Lucky nodded. He waited a moment though. “How did you deal with the guilt?” he asked, avoiding Lucky’s eyes, staring at the ground.

“I decided the best way to make it better was to help Elizabeth. I did whatever she needed when she needed it. I made her my number one priority.”

“And that helped?”

“I could sleep better at night, but for the rest of my life, Dillon, I’ll wonder if I was just a little bit quicker…if I could have prevented it.”

Dillon swallowed. “You said it happened at the same place—at the fountain—”

“Coincidence,” Lucky assured him. “The guy who attacked Elizabeth confessed and is in prison now.” He got to his feet, put a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out into the hall, leaned against the wall, and took a deep breath. He tried to calm the swirling thoughts, the ache in his chest. The flashes in his head. He’d kept it together. He’d gotten through the interview, but, oh, man.

It had started in the park. When he’d walked into that clearing, and he’d just—he’d gone _back_. Back to the terrible, freezing night when he’d trekked through the snow, his breath white puffs of air. He could remember his irritation at annoying Lizzie Webber who never told the truth if a lie was more interesting.

And then the sound of the bushes rustling—he’d heard her first, her soft whimpers, the crunch of snow as she’d dragged herself back to the clearing—

The look in her eyes, the tear in her dress—

Lucky exhaled slowly, then took out his cell phone and dialed.

“Lucky? Hey. You’re at the hospital, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked as he spoke, so he cleared his throat. “You heard already?”

“Yeah.” Kelsey’s voice was thick. “Yeah. I’m on my way into the office. Scott and I are meeting tonight—Mac’s supposed to come with the details. Damn it. I knew—I knew we didn’t have a lot of time, but I didn’t think—”

“Yeah.”

“And Brooke Lynn—the girl at Luke’s last week—she’s a kid—” He listened as her voice broke. When she spoke again, Kelsey sounded stronger. “I’ll be here all night, but if you can—I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

He closed his phone and slipped it back into his back. He felt better just hearing her voice, but knew he’d have to tell her tomorrow why finding a young brunette in a park had hit him so hard. Lucky knew now it wasn’t fair to go forward without admitting just how much of his previous life Helena had destroyed—

And how he now had to cope with the fact that it was coming back.

**General Hospital: ICU Waiting Room**

It was nearly two in the morning before the hospital was able to move Brooke from the emergency room to her own room in the ICU—a precaution, Tony had assured Ned when it was time to make the move. They were concerned about the head injury, the cracked ribs, and Brooke’s unconscious state.

Ned thought, and his mother had agreed, that this sounded more like the hospital trying to cover its ass with the niece of the Chief of Staff and granddaughter of members of the hospital board, but he wanted Brooke to have the best care.

They sat with her in shifts—Dillon and Tracy were taking this half hour as Ned sat in the waiting room, trying to draft a press statement. Alexis, representing both the hospital and the family, had left to find out exactly how Brooke’s name had been leaked to the press.

So far, only the _Sun_ had run her name because the _Sun_ had zero journalistic principles, but Brooke was a Quartermaine and the other media would eventually run with it.

And the fact that he had to run damage control before his daughter was even conscious—

The door to the room opened, and Ned was relieved to find Jax on the other side, with two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. “I thought Alexis said you’d be here tomorrow—” Ned rose to his feet. Jax set the coffees on the small table next to one of the chairs and embraced Ned tightly.

“I turned the plane around over the Atlantic,” Jax told him. He drew back, keeping his hands on Ned’s shoulders. “How is she?”

“Ah—” Ned had to struggle to think straight. “Still hasn’t—she hasn’t woken up. Tony doesn’t seem to think that’s unusual. It’s been about—” He checked his watch— “God, it’s been about five hours. Concussion, sprained wrist, cracked ribs—” His voice faltered. “He beat her within an inch of her life—her face is—” He collapsed onto the seat, his head in his hands. “It’s my fault.”

“Ned—”

“_I_ brought her up here, didn’t care what she thought. I took her phone away, I wouldn’t let her have a car—she was only walking in that park because she was trying to take the bus—”

“Hey, you know better than that.” Jax shook Ned’s shoulder. “This is about the animal who did this to her. No one else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, well, they better hope when they get him, I’m not left alone with him.” Ned looked at his friend. “Someone at the department leaked her name. The press was at the house—Alexis only just managed to get them away from the hospital.”

“Why—why would they do that?” Jax demanded. His eyes flashed. “She’s a _child_—”

“To cover their asses. The PCPD has been under a lot of criticism for handling Carly’s kidnapping and putting Liz Webber in danger from her violent husband—this shifts it away from their screwups.” Ned shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. Lois is going to come through those doors in an hour or two, and she’s going to be angry with me, and I deserve it.”

“We’ll take this one step at a time—”

The doors opened again, and this time it was his grandfather, looking impossibly old and worn. “I got a copy of the _Herald_ delivered express.” Edward blinked. “Oh. Jax.”

“Edward. Is there anything I can do for you? Get you? Some breakfast?” he asked, turning to Ned, but Ned just shook his head.

“Grandfather, tell me the _Herald_ didn’t publish her name—”

“No. Only the _Sun_, and believe you me, I already have Alexis drawing up a lawsuit. I am going to buy that rag and burn it to the ground,” Edward growled. He tossed the paper down on the seat next to Ned. “The _Herald_ has another story that might interest you.”

Ned picked it up and just stared at the two-inch banner headline. **SERIAL RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN**

“Serial…” he swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the paper hard. “What the hell is this—”

“Brooke is the fourth young woman attacked at a fountain in that park since February,” Edward revealed, jabbing his finger at the paper. “According to the _Herald_, the department refused to make a connection after the first two attacks in February and May, and then asked the paper to hold the story after the third—”

“Two weeks ago,” Ned breathed, the fury rising inside like a volcano. “If they had just said something about this before—this didn’t—” He stared at his grandmother. “That goddamn department is so concerned with saving their own asses—”

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His little girl was lying in the hospital, bruised and broken, because the PCPD hadn’t bothered to warn the public.

He looked across the room, at the notebook where he’d been scratching out a draft of a press statement.

Ned was going to destroy the career of any man who had held back this story and make them regret the day they’d pinned on a badge.

**Port Charles Airport: Arrivals Hall**

Dante moved from one foot to the other, his eyes studying the arrivals board closely. The chartered flight from New York City had landed ten minutes ago, so where the hell were they?

Cruz nudged him and offered a cup of coffee he had bought from one of the stalls nearby. The arrivals hall was basically deserted this early in the morning—Port Charles saw its share of international and domestic flights, but few of them arrived in the hours between four and seven.

“You know, if Mac tracks the leak back to you—”

“I didn’t tell them her name,” Dante muttered. “They must have gotten that somewhere else. I just wanted them on the serial rapist. I wanted the city to know—” He shook his head. “I didn’t look out for Brooke when she got here. Not like I should have.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Doesn’t matter. I could have done _more_.” Dante clenched his jaw. “So now I will. The PCPD isn’t going to sweep this story under the rug anymore. They’re going to do this right, and the only way they’ll process those damn kits is if they _have_ to.”

He saw the two women walking briskly towards him—both dark haired and petite, but the anger and despair radiated from Lois Cerullo even from fifty feet away. With a large handbag over her shoulder, her almost black hair cropped short to her chin, Lois’s expression was set in battle mode.

Behind him, Dante’s mother, Olivia Falconieri, looked tired and simply sad. Her streaky caramel hair pulled into a messy tail, pieces of it falling in her face and around her neck. She carried a duffel bag and pulled a smaller travel carry-on behind her.

“Hey, kiddo,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Has there been anything? We couldn’t get any service in LaGuardia—”

“Brooke was moved to her own room in the ICU—” At Lois’s muffled gasp, Dante hurried to explain. “Lucky Spencer has been at the hospital all night monitoring her, and he says it’s just because of her concussion—”

“And the fact that she’s a Quartermaine,” Olivia said dryly. She sighed and looked at her old friend. “Why don’t you let Dante drop you at the hospital and I’ll check in our things at the hotel.”

Dante shuffled his feet. “I’m supposed to remind you that the Qs have offered—”

“I’m not staying in that house.” Lois rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be great, Liv. I want to see what’s going on, and how soon I can take Brookie home.” Her eyes were glimmering with tears. “This was a gigantic mistake, sending her here when I damn well _knew_ that Ned was too worried about himself to look after her.”

“Lois,” Olivia murmured. She touched her friend’s shoulder. “C’mon. Don’t start with that tonight. I always thought he was a good guy who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. I don’t want you to fight with him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lois looked at Dante—who was also her godson—and nodded. “Let’s—” She seemed to notice Cruz at his side. “Who’re you?”

“My roommate and another rookie,” Dante told her. “Cruz just—he wanted to keep me company while I waited.”

“Yeah, you can drop me at the hospital, too,” Cruz told Dante. “I’m supposed to relieve Lucky. I’m very sorry, Ms. Cerullo. Brooke seems like a great girl, and I know that we’ll work hard to find this guy.”

Dante wanted to argue with his friend—they were only rookies and what could they really do—but this wasn’t the time, so he took the bags from his mother and started for the parking lot.

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

It was rare to see Garrett Floyd in a full-fledge rage, and to be honest, under other circumstances, Mac might have enjoyed it. But right now, he just sat back in his desk chair, his hands clasped in his lap, and waited for him to wind down. It was just past seven in the morning after a long night, and he was more interested in finishing his coffee than trading insults.

Floyd raged about the incompetency of the officers, the inability to control leaks, protect victims, and keep the streets safe. He fired Mac six times during the rant, but that was normal. Floyd usually fired Mac once a month, but then remembered why he kept Mac on.

For better or worse, Mac played ball when Floyd needed him to, and that made him more valuable than anyone else who might take over.

“Who the hell leaked the girl’s name?” Floyd demanded. He shook the newspaper in Mac’s face. “I got not only Edward Quartermaine threatening me, but a state senator—and goddamn Hilary Clinton contacted my office, worried about victim’s rights.”

A former First Lady and current sitting United States Senator. Mac raised his brows. Edward was bringing in the big guns. Not that Mac blamed him—the PCPD had sat on a serial rapist for at least the last two weeks, hoping that they could apprehend the guy before they had to terrify the public.

Taggert had argued, but Mac knew the company line. Alerting the public to danger in their midst months before a mayoral election was not even an option. Without convincing evidence that they were linked, and with a direct order from the mayor—Mac’s hands were tied. In a twisted way, he was glad one of his officers had leaked the information and relieved him of the decision.

“I don’t know which one of my guys leaked the name—and before you throw Capelli at me—he’s still on suspension for two more weeks,” Mac reminded him. “I told you that my guys wanted to put out a warning. You vetoed it.”

Floyd bared his teeth with a growl. “If I have to sacrifice you and throw you under the bus—”

Calmly, Mac reached into his desk, pulled out a tape recorder and pressed play. After getting the notification from Taggert about Brooke Lynn Ashton, Mac had come into work, gone into his office, and cued this tape up.

_I don_ _’t want any goddamn people talking about a serial rapist—you issue that warning, and I’ll replace so you damn fast—_

Floyd narrowed his eyes. “You recorded me.”

“Since the Tom Baker case and the first time you tried to sacrifice this department for an election, yeah. I also have the memo you sent out. So does the DA’s office.” Mac looked at him. “Brooke was with my daughters last night. It could have been one of them. For years, I’ve done what you asked. I’ve pushed on suspects, made some things less of a priority—I’ve done what you asked.” Mac leaned forward. “I will eat this story, I will personally take the blame, but this is it. This is the last time you push me around and threaten my job.”

“I can put anyone else in your job—”

“And I’ll release this tape. You think Edward Quartermaine is crawling up your ass now? The deadline to register for the election is July 31. You think the Quartermaines won’t throw their weight behind any goon on the street if I tell them _you__’re_ the one who pushed back on a public warning?”

Floyd yanked his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “How long have you been waiting to pay me back for the Baker case?” he demanded.

“You asked me to ignore protocol and close a rape victim’s case so that Baker could go to jail faster. I did that because I honestly thought Baker was the guy.” Mac shook his head. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Listen to me—”

“In the last six months, four young women have been attacked and raped in the Port Charles Park. Near fountains. Five years ago, Elizabeth Webber was raped at the same location as Brooke. We never ran her rape kit—never knew if there was DNA to be found on her dress.”

Floyd’s face paled. “Are you going to run it now?”

“What do you think it would do to the election if we did?” Mac murmured. “If that kit came back with DNA that matched the new victims? You think anyone is going to care that we thought Baker was the guy? No. We run that rape kit now, you’re not the only one who will pay. I’ll go down with you.”

He looked at the photographs on his desk. On one side, he stood with both his girls at Georgie’s high school graduation only last month, and on other side, Robin and her father, Robert—the last photo of the two of them together. They all looked at him, accusing.

He’d done the wrong thing five years ago and he was terrified that the same man was at work now, but if Mac could catch this guy now—if he could make it right—

Then no one would ever have to know what a terrible choice he’d made. He’d had his reasons, and maybe some would believe him. Forgive him.

But it wouldn’t ever take the horror away. It wouldn’t ever erase the guilt.

“Not unless I have to,” Mac said finally. “But I’m not the only one who knows about that case. Taggert worked it—he thinks the rape kit was already run. That we had a negative return. Lucky Spencer found her that night. They both work for me. And Elizabeth Webber is about to be the star witness against Ric Lansing.”

“Mac—”

“I can spin it if I have to. We thought we had the guy, Baker confessed. Closure. I might take a hit—but it wouldn’t be fatal. But you better hope Edward Quartermaine doesn’t make the connection. You wanted that case to go away so the Quartermaines would stop pressuring you, but you and I both know that he _never_ wanted us to throw Elizabeth away with it.”

Floyd gritted his teeth. “Mac—”

“She’s dating his grandson. And the Quartermaines are even fonder of her now than they were before. If it comes out that we didn’t run the rape kit, Edward Quartermaine will put the entire force of all his connections against someone in the fall.”

“You’ve made your point. We’ll just agree that I was perhaps…hasty…in my decision not to issue a public warning. I’ll have my office draft a statement.” Floyd hesitated. “I know that you hate what we did in the Baker case, but we had no way of knowing Baker didn’t do it—we still don’t know—”

“If we had investigated it properly, maybe we _would_ know.” Mac rose to his feet. “I have a briefing with my guys. You know the way out.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Sonny carefully folded the _Port Charles Sun_ and exhaled slowly. He hadn’t been close with Lois Cerullo or anyone in the Bensonhurst crowd since he had migrated up to Port Charles to work the clubs for Frank Smith in his early twenties. There hadn’t been much to stay around for after Connie Falconieri had dumped him.

He and Lois had briefly resurrected their friendship when she’d been married to Ned, but it brought back too many memories and Lois had never been comfortable with his criminal tendencies. But he knew Brooke Lynn, had seen her around town as a child—

He’d been, literally her godfather, along with Brenda.

And now, according to the tabloids, she’d been brutally beaten and raped in the park. Just like three other women.

Max knocked on the closed door, then opened it. Sonny looked up to find Jason standing in the hallway, looking again as if he hadn’t slept. He knew why, of course—

The visit to Tom Baker had suddenly taken a new, horrifying meaning. If he hadn’t been the one to attack Elizabeth—if the animal was still out there—

Could it be the same man?

Jason closed the door behind him and just stood there. Silently.

“I saw,” Sonny said. He scowled at the tabloids. “I thought they weren’t supposed to print names, but then again, this is the same damn paper the PCPD leaked the affair to.”

Jason sat on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I tried to tell her last night. I just—I just started with something small. That I had the letter, that I’d read it—”

“Jason—”

“And she was angry with me. Hurt. It was just like you said. I put it back in her head, and then Emily called her last night—it happened at the _same_ place, Sonny.”

Sonny nodded, gesturing towards the _Herald_ laying underneath the _Sun_ on the coffee table. “Yeah, the paper said it was in the park—”

“No. The same exact place. Sonny, they found Brooke Lynn Ashton at the same fountain where Elizabeth was attacked.” Jason shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t ignore that. Baker says he didn’t do it, and now apparently, there’s someone raping young women in the park. They said all of the women were in the same age range, all with brown hair—”

“I get it, Jason. I know what it might mean. What did Elizabeth think about it—”

“We didn’t—I didn’t ask, and she didn’t say. I couldn’t.”

“That’s smart.” When Jason looked at him, surprised, Sonny continued, “Don’t bring it up. The last thing she needs now is to think it’s the same guy, Jase. It’s bad enough that she’s thinking about it. You said she was upset just at the thought of you reading the letter—what—”

“It’s not just about not lying to her—I mean, it’s that. But it’s—if this is the same guy, Sonny, then it’s not just these four women. It’s Elizabeth. Her attack was more than five years ago.” Jason swallowed hard. “How many _other_ women are there?”

“Yeah.” Sonny got to his feet. “Yeah, but you’re not the only one who knows about her attack. Taggert worked her case, didn’t he? He’s still there. And Lucky Spencer—they were friends. He’s on the force now. Her case is a matter of public record. What’s it gonna serve for you to turn that letter over to the police and force Elizabeth to confront something that might not even be true?”

“Come on—”

“And even if you did tell the PCPD, what makes you think they’ll handle it right?” Sonny shook his head, crossed to the minibar and poured himself a glass of water. “They couldn’t find Carly. If you believe the press, they didn’t even notice they had a serial rapist. You gonna put Elizabeth through this for something that might not be worth it?”

“Sonny—”

“I just—” Sonny hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s up to you, Jase, but what does it change? It’s been five years. They might not be able to open her case again. Why do you have to be the one that drags this up for her? She has closure right now, Jason. You want to take it away?”

“No. But—”

“And is there any reason it has to be today? Right now? Why don’t you give it a few days? Let all of this settle.” He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Give her time to settle. Isn’t her protection hearing coming up next week?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. I just—I don’t want to hurt her, Sonny. But I’m not sure there’s a way to avoid it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go home, shower and change. I have to be at the warehouse in a bit.”

“Okay.” Sonny watched him go, then shook his head again. Man, he did not envy Jason this dilemma.

“You told him to lie to her.”

Sonny turned to find Carly standing at the top of the stairs, one hand braced on the banister. “Carly—”

“I don’t know what secret Jason’s keeping,” she said as she slowly made her way down the stairs. “But if it’s about this attack on that poor girl—if he knows something, he should tell someone.”

“You know, what happened to not cooperating with the police?” Sonny muttered. He grimaced, his head starting to spin.

“I get that lying and keeping secrets is your favorite thing to do, Sonny, but believe it or not, not every woman finds it charming,” Carly snapped. “How can you want Jason to keep quiet about something like this? You know Lois. Her daughter has been attacked—”

“When?” Sonny demanded. His skin felt pale, clammy. He could feel a bead of sweat sliding down his face. “How? Brooke’s in New York. I haven’t seen her since she was christened.”

Carly blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. She gestured at the papers. “Last night, Sonny. Brooke moved here to go to college—”

“That’s not possible. She can’t be more than ten,” Sonny said as he yanked the papers up. “She—” He closed his eyes. “No, no. I remember now. She’s…she’s nineteen. I—I—think Benny reminded me to send her a card last year.” He laughed, a bit uncomfortable now. “I can’t—I’m sorry. They just—kids grow up so fast, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carly squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sonny rubbed his chest. “I’m fine. I, ah, have work. I have to go to work.”

**General Hospital: Gail** **’s Office**

“Where do you want to start?” Gail asked as she leaned back in her armchair, a notepad in her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I got a call from Emily last night,” Elizabeth confessed, then told Gail about Brooke and asking Jason to come over. “He encouraged me to talk about why things with my rape are—” She sighed. “In my head.”

“It was on your mind before the letter?” Gail asked.

“Sort of, yeah.” Elizabeth waited a moment, trying to find the courage, the energy to do this. “When I found out Ric had been drugging me since January, I thought about what had happened then. Was there some reason he started it then, you know? And I remembered that after my grandmother’s reception, I was so tired and just…not ready to go back to my studio. I had put off the grieving because I kept planning—and then it was over, and she was buried.”

Elizabeth stared at her clasped hands. “Ric said he’d taken a room in the hotel for me because he’d thought I might be too tired, and he wanted me to be comfortable. I remember thinking—God—I remember thinking that I was so _lucky_ to have him. He had helped me with Gram’s estate. He’d been there when I found out—he’d explained all he estate paperwork to me, and—he kept putting _me_ first.”

Her eyes glittered and her voice thickened. “And I hated myself because I kept thinking—I kept _wishing_ he was Jason. That I wished that I loved Ric the way he seemed to love me, but I couldn’t. And I thought I was pathetic because it was clear Jason didn’t. I told myself that I was going to make it work with Ric. That’s why I didn’t—I didn’t really—”

She bit her lip. “We went upstairs and inside the suite, he offered me a glass of wine. I was grateful to have company, and I drank the wine. I had another glass—and then I didn’t really remember anything else.” She met Gail’s warm eyes, filled with concern. “I woke up the next morning, naked under the sheets, next to Ric. I just—I thought maybe I had been tipsy, or God, maybe I’d had another panic attack like I had with Zander.”

“So, you didn’t think about it much,” Gail said quietly.

“No—I just…I got dressed, left him a note, and went home. I just—I thought maybe I had rushed it, and I wanted to pull back, because I still didn’t quite—” She bit her lip. “It’s the only time I really don’t have any memory of having sex with Ric. The other times we were together, I know he always fed me something he’d made or brought some wine, but I can honestly say that I didn’t think much of it. That maybe he put more in my glass that first time—enough to make me black out.” Her lip trembled. “The way he must have done to Carly.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t remember resisting. It was usually his idea, and I just—I went along with it because I didn’t really care. I—we weren’t even together after I found out about what he’d done to Carly, and then what happened with Courtney and learning about Sonny—even after I went back to him—I shied away from him and I wasn’t drinking any more wine.”

“You think Ric drugged you the first time to get you to sleep with him, and then after that, maybe to just make you less resistant,” Gail said slowly. For the first time, Elizabeth was able to read the disgust and anger in her grandmother’s old friend.

“I’m pretty sure. And if it’s true, then I know it means Ric raped me.” Her voice faltered, and Elizabeth closed her eyes against the rush of tears. “And I just don’t know if I can really—I don’t know if I can deal with this. If I can even _allow_ myself to accept it.” She accepted the tissue Gail offered her. “I had to claw and drag myself back the last time—and how can I accept it’s happened again?”

“I don’t know,” Gail said honestly. “But I think just addressing it is the first step.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Knowing that you’re not alone is also important. Have you told anyone else?”

“I told Jason last night. He encouraged me to talk to you. That’s—that’s good, right? That I opened up to him before you assigned it for homework.” Elizabeth managed a smile. “He was so angry, but he tried to hide it. Tried to make me the focus.” She sighed. “I guess it makes sense that I’m thinking about all of this now. I told you about that letter from Tom Baker, and then Jason told me he’d read it—”

“He did?” Gail repeated, her brows lifting slightly. “When?”

“He grabbed the letter the day I tried to throw it out. I guess he thought I’d change my mind. I don’t know what it says, and I don’t _want_ to know. He’s up for parole, and I just—I mean, is it wrong that I don’t want to deal with it?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s wrong. I think you should just be aware of _why_ you don’t want to deal with it. You do have a great deal going on, and it can often feel overwhelming to tackle all your trauma at the same time.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of what I figured. I mean, it doesn’t matter. Tom Baker is in jail. He—hearing about Brooke was hard because she was…raped in the park. Like I was.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Apparently at the same place in the park.”

“Really?”

“It’s in a quiet area. Just the fountain with a few benches and lot of bushes and trees. I mean…I don’t—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Tom Baker confessed. I have my justice. I hope Brooke and the others get theirs. It’s hard enough for me to wake up with what Ric’s done to me.”

“Okay.” Gail pursed her lips. “Are you all right with what Jason did? That he read it?”

“I don’t know. I guess, I understand it. And part of me—” She tilted her head towards the ceiling and blew out an exasperated breath. “As irritated and upset as I was with him last night, there’s part of me that is relieved. Because he didn’t want to lie to me. Even when it might hurt me, he didn’t want to lie to me.”

“And that matters?”

“It’s everything.” Elizabeth met Gail’s eyes. “Being honest, being open—that’s the thing we’ve both struggled with. He’s trying as much as I am. He started to tell me, but then he listened when I told him to stop. It’s just…it means that we’re on the same page. Finally. After all these years. It gives me hope that I can stop saying my goal is to be okay. That one day, I can actually hope to be happy. With Jason.”


	7. Chapter Twenty-Six

_But you can't walk in my shoes_  
_Every mile just feels like two_  
_I won't keep explaining_  
_I won't keep on trying_  
_So what if I'm hiding_  
_You're giving me a headache_  
\- Please Don’t Shout, Billie Myers

* * *

_Wednesday, July 16, 2003_

**General Hospital: ICU**

She could hear the voices first. They were whispers, murmurs, sounds. She wanted to stay in the darkness, in the softness and bliss of nothing. Nothingness seemed better.

But then the voices shifted—in tone, in volume. Brooke opened her eyes, turning her head slightly to the side. Where was she? Why did she still feel like she was floating?

And…why were her parents arguing? Why were they together?

“I want to take Brookie home today!” her mother snarled, and blearily, Brooke could see her mother stabbing her finger into her father’s chest, her face screwed up in furious lines, tear stains glinting on her cheeks. “I don’t want her in this godforsaken city another _minute_—”

“The doctors say it’s more important to let her wake up on her own,” her father retorted. “To say nothing of the police who want to take her statement—”

“The police? You have the _nerve_ to bring them up? The PCPD isn’t getting through that goddamn door—”

“I may not like them very much, but I want this animal caught and that can’t—”

“Hey!” Another voice snapped. “The _both_ of you. This is a hospital—” Brooke knew that sound—her mother’s best friend, Liv. Level-headed Aunt Livvie.

“Brooke?” Olivia murmured, as she approached the bed. “She’s awake.”

“Oh, Brookie—” Lois pressed her fingers to her lips. “Baby. How are you feeling?”

“I—” Brooke cleared her throat. Looked at her parents before looking at her aunt. “What’s going on? It’s hard to—” Why couldn’t she finish a sentence? Why couldn’t she think? “Am…Am I in the hospital—Ma, what are you doing here?”

“Baby, we’ll talk about this later.” Lois whacked Ned in the chest. “Go get a doctor.”

“Hey, we’re not married anymore. You don’t get to order me around,” Ned muttered, but nonetheless obeyed.

“We’re going to take you home to Bensonhurst, just as soon as you’re up to it,” Lois promised, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Lois,” Olivia murmured. “This isn’t the time—”

“Home?” Brooke repeated. “I—I’m going to school here. I got a job—maybe even friends—”

_Oh, God, oh, God._

It slammed into her with the force of a freight train—the terror, the tearing pain, the desperation—oh, God. “Ma…” Her eyes filled with tears. “_Ma_.”

“Oh, my baby…” Lois slid up closer, touching Brooke’s cheek. “Baby…”

Ned returned, with Tony Jones on his heels—and Lieutenant Taggert. “Brooke…”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. Get out. Get out, _get out_!” Brooke screeched. She thrashed on the bed. She wasn’t going to talk about it. She was never going to think about it again. She didn’t want to even know about it. “Get out!”

“Go!” Lois snarled, launching herself off the bed at Taggert. “Get out! You’re upsetting her!”

“Call me if she changes her mind,” Taggert murmured to Ned before leaving.

“Aunt Livvie, make them all go away—” Brooke whimpered. She reached blindly for Olivia’s hand. “Make it stop. Make them all stop.”

“All right, baby girl. All right.” Olivia turned to Brooke’s parents and the doctor. “She’s not going to talk to anyone—”

“I need to examine her,” Tony protested.

“That’s _my_ daughter—” Ned added.

“Brookie—”

“And the first thing she hears when she wakes up is her parents goin’ at each other. Let’s just give her a minute, okay?” Olivia put an arm around Lois’s shoulder. “Go get some coffee. Kill each other in the parking lot for all I care.”

Ned pressed his lips together, looked at his crying daughter and took a deep breath. “Okay. If Brooke needs me to go, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Wait here,” Olivia said to Tony once Ned and Lois had reluctantly left. “Brooke, baby, you were hurt pretty bad. No one is going to talk about why, but can you let the doctor check on you? The faster you heal, the faster you can leave.”

Brooke’s tears continued but she nodded. “Okay. Okay. But I don’t wanna see anyone else.” She grabbed Olivia’s wrist. “Do-do they all know?”

“Don’t worry about any of that, baby girl.” Olivia took Brooke’s hand in both of hers. “Let—” She looked at Tony.

“Dr. Jones,” he supplied.

“Let Dr. Jones look at you. And maybe he can give you something that might make you feel better.” She met Tony’s eyes as he hesitantly approached. “Dr. Jones?”

“Sure, sure, if that’s what Brooke wants.”

“I just want it to go away. It didn’t happen, Aunt Livvie. Okay? It _never_ happened—” Brooke continued to cry even as Tony started on her vitals. “Please don’t make me think about it.”

Brooke haltingly got through Tony’s examination, answering his questions in one or two words. With a sigh, Tony reached for her chart. Olivia followed him into the hall. “Doctor—”

“I’m writing her an order for some lorazepam,” Tony told her. “It’s an anti-anxiety drug and it should calm her down—” Lois and Ned rushed up to him. “Brooke is doing as well as can be expected. I think she can leave the ICU in a few more hours — I want to monitor the concussion a bit longer.” He patted Ned’s shoulder before going down the hall.

“He’s going to give her some anxiety medication,” Olivia told the parents.

“Who are _you_ to make decisions?” Lois demanded. She shook her fist at her best friend. “She is my daughter _not_ yours—” And with that, Lois went back into the hospital room where they watched Brooke crying through the clear glass walls.

Ned exhaled slowly. “Let me guess. Lois is hard on Brooke, but you’ve always played mediator.”

“And then she does the same for me and my son. It’s easier when it’s not your kid to see both sides,” Olivia said with a half-smile. “Lois loves too hard sometimes. I get that—that’s how I feel about my Dante.” She looked at Ned. “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t matter,” Ned said softly. “Thanks for stepping in. Brooke’s lucky to have you.”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Kelsey** **’s Office**

Lucky rubbed his tired eyes as he entered Kelsey’s office, unsurprised to find her seated at the conference table, surrounded by casefiles, and sipping from a mug of coffee. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She sprang up, setting the mug down. She crossed to him, putting her hands on his upper arms. “I wasn’t expecting you this early—”

“Taggert wanted me to update you while he went to the station to talk to Mac.”

“Yeah, Scott is there with him.” She gestured towards a table in the corner of her office where a coffee pot sat. “There’s coffee if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Lucky went to pour himself a cup. “Brooke woke up a bit ago—Taggert called me on my way over. She’s not talking yet.”

“I figured.” Kelsey frowned at him as he stirred sugar into his cup. “You interviewed the kids who found her, right?”

“Kids.” Lucky snorted as he leaned back against the table, sipped his coffee. “Brooke’s nineteen. They’re all round that age. It’s not much younger than me.” He stared down into the black liquid. “Or you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Anyway, they didn’t have a lot more to offer except to tighten the time frame.” Lucky looked at her. “He’s either following them or lying in wait, hoping someone will walk into the clearing.”

“I think he might be following them.” Kelsey turned back to the statements. “I looked over Watson and Norton — both of these statements are pretty basic. It looks like they gave an initial interview when asked, but then there wasn’t a lot of follow up.” She looked at him. “You’re listed on the second Norton interview. Do you know why she didn’t give more information?”

“Because Vinnie opened the conversation by asking why she was wearing such a revealing outfit that late in public,” Lucky muttered. He sat the conference table. “Wendy Morris refused a follow-up altogether. None of the victims liked him much.” He frowned at her. “But you think they were followed?”

“Unless he picks a different fountain to hang out,” Kelsey said as she sat next to him. “I’m hoping Taggert will be able to get the victims to do a follow-up interview that’s a bit more thorough. It doesn’t look like Vinnie asked any of them why they were in the park but—”

“Why can’t you do the follow-up? Or Scott?”

“I wish I could.” She sighed and shuffled through some paper. “I can be in the room when Taggert takes the statements. I probably will be. But I can’t take them alone. Not when their initial statements are so bare. Because then I turn into an investigator, and I can’t try the case.”

“If he were following them from one of the shops on Quartz Lane, that would make sense. The timeline is pretty narrow with Brooke’s attack.” Lucky pulled out his notepad. “You’ll get the official copies, but basically — Dillon says they went to a double feature at the Harwin. It started at nine, but they were kicked out around 10:30 PM.”

“The call came in at 11:03.” Kelsey tossed one dull pencil aside and grabbed another, already sharpened. “Is he sure about the time?”

“He said they were almost done the first movie. I’m checking with the theater—they keep exact times of when they start films. Dillon can point out the scene where they left.”

“And they left because of a fight?”

“Yeah. Maxie Jones has a boyfriend the rest of them barely tolerate. He was there that night. It seems like it was small stuff — Maxie didn’t like the movie, Lucas insulted her and Kyle, a soda got knocked over, and another patron punched Kyle.”

Kelsey stared at him. “And the movie theater kicked out them out, but not the guy who actually committed the assault?” She shook her head. “Figures.”

“Yeah, I interviewed all three of the boys when Lucas and Kyle got to the hospital. I asked Kyle if he wanted us to look into it, but he was more concerned with Brooke. The fight continued outside. None of the kids are sure how long they were arguing before they noticed Brooke had left.”

“Any idea why she went off alone?” Kelsey asked, scribbling furiously.

“She’s new to the group and probably got annoyed by the fighting. She doesn’t have a car or a phone—”

“Really?” Kelsey interrupted, frowning. “She’s a Quartermaine—”

“Who got into trouble back in New York. This was part of a punishment—she needed to earn those privileges back or pay for them herself.” He shook her head. “But she’s familiar with the bus system from living in the city. There’s a bus stop on Central Avenue that goes past the Quartermaine house. She cut through the park.”

“Okay. So, we have a half hour between being kicked out and the call to 911. How long do the boys think they were searching?”

“Ten minutes,” Lucky offered. “They were able to pinpoint that because the boys split the park in three. Kyle gave his numbers to both Lucas and Dillon by texting to them. That gave me a time stamp. They started walking through the park at 10:50 PM. Figure in maybe five minutes to figure out a search plan. Maybe two or three minutes of talking about Brooke being gone.”

“That’s…” Kelsey sat back. Set the pencil down. “That’s a very tight timeline. If she gives them five minutes of fighting, it’s only about five minutes before they notice she’s gone. To get to that spot in the park, when you’re not looking for someone—”

“Maybe seven minutes. Ten at most.”

“We’ll have a better idea once you get me the exact time they were kicked out, but if Dillon is right — if they’re kicked out at 10:30, Brooke takes off around 10:35, and it takes until 10:45 to get to that spot—”

“Fifteen minutes before Dillon finds her.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Kelsey repeated. She looked at him. “To beat her unconscious, rape her, and flee the scene. That’s not a lot of time.”

“He followed her from the movies and waited until she got to the fountain. Because that location means something. We can’t rule out the lying-in wait, but—”

“We need to know where the other victims were before the attack.” Kelsey rubbed the back of her neck. “But this is just more proof it’s the same man. He has this down to a science. No way this is the first time.”

“Yeah, that’s definite.” Lucky hesitated. “There’s—there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Kelsey shoved her chair out slightly so she could angle herself towards him. “What’s wrong? I know these kids are friends with your sister. You mentioned it—”

“It’s more—” He looked at her. “I told you about Elizabeth Webber, right? That we dated?”

“Yeah?”

“She was raped in the park, too. When we were teenagers. Valentine’s Day, 1998. At the same fountain.”

“The same—” Kelsey’s eyes flared wide. “Lucky, do you think it’s—”

“No, no. I just—they caught the guy. He confessed. He’s in prison for an unrelated crime, but that’s not—” Lucky rubbed a hand over his chest. “I found her like Dillon. She wasn’t hurt as badly. And she didn’t report it right away. That’s not—that’s not why I’m telling you this. I told you that I was kidnapped and brainwashed.”

“You told me that night at Luke’s.” Kelsey put a hand on his arm. “Lucky, I don’t want you to think you have to tell me anything you’re not ready to—”

“She removed memories of Elizabeth, I told you that.”

“Oh.” Kelsey pursed her lips. “I thought you meant recent ones—but…_all_ of them?”

“And not just Elizabeth. I had trouble remembering my family. I remembered more about them, but Elizabeth—that was almost completely gone. It started coming back last night. While I was interviewing Dillon. Like it was happening all over again.” Lucky shook his head. “It’s…I can do the job, but I think—”

“This one hits home more than the other cases because it’s so similar.” Kelsey tightened her hand slightly on his arm. “Hey. I get it. These kids—they’re not much older than you guys were, I guess. And in the same location. And you’re just remembering it again, so it feels like it’s now. I get it, Lucky. And I can tell you’ll be fine doing the job. You finished the interviews. And we’ve put together a good theory.”

She leaned in closer. “But if you want me to tell you if I think it’s affecting your work, I will. I promise.”

“Thanks. I…I really like you,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing just a bit. “I want to keep seeing you. I just—I thought you had a right to know.”

“I appreciate it.” She leaned forward, kissed him, sliding her fingers through his hair. “We’ll get Brooke justice. Like you and Elizabeth Webber got. We’ll put this guy away so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

**Corinthos Coffee: Office**

Jason squinted at the rows of numbers in the latest batch of invoices and rubbed his eyes. Sonny wanted to open this place in two weeks—a new legitimate business and place to meet—but everything had stopped while Carly had been missing. The builders had continued their work, but without a business manager on the paperwork—

Sonny had a habit of starting projects that ended up being Jason’s problem.

The door opened and Carly entered, a large book of fabric and patterns in her arms. He got to his feet and rushed to take it from her. She frowned at him. “I’m pregnant, Jase, not dead. It’s not even that heavy—”

But he’d already set it on the table serving as a temporary desk—that was why Carly was here. One of her “getting back to Carly” projects was finishing up the design of the coffee house and furnishing their office. She settled herself in the lone chair he’d vacated, and he stood by her side.

After they’d gone through a few pattern choices, Carly closed the book they were looking at and set it on the table. “I have a confession to make.”

Jason frowned, then leaned against the table so he was facing her. “What’s up? Is anything wrong?”

“I was upstairs when you were over yesterday. I didn’t mean to listen—” She bit her lip. “Okay, I _meant_ to listen. I thought you might say something about Ric—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Carly—”

“I know, I know. I _know _better. The thing is, I only kind of heard what you and Sonny were talking about. But I know he wanted you to keep something from Elizabeth.”

“Carly—”

“And then I see you today—the first time I’ve seen you in a few days mind you—and you look like you haven’t slept. I’m just—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel like I owe Elizabeth since she helped find me. And I know you love her.” She smirked. “I may not understand it, but I know it.”

Jason looked away, sighed. He knew what Sonny thought about this topic, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. “You probably saw the papers about Brooke Lynn Ashton.”

“Yeah. I know her a little from when I lived at the mansion. She visited Ned a few times.” Carly leaned back against the chair, rubbing her belly. “What does that have to do with anything—” She tilted her head. “I know Elizabeth was raped when she was younger.”

Jason blinked at her. Shook his head. “How—”

“It came up when she was in the running to be Face of Deception,” she explained. “She had trouble with some of the photoshoots, and I guess we’d rented the same studio where she’d been held with Emily. That photographer, right?”

“Yeah.” He reluctantly told her about the letter, his visit, and Elizabeth’s reaction to his reading the letter. “Sonny thinks I shouldn’t tell her. That if it is related, the PCPD knows about her case—”

“But you feel like you’re sitting on this evidence that her rapist is still out there, and she doesn’t know it,” Carly said. “You have to tell her—”

“I just—she’s going through so much, and she begged me not to bring it up—”

Carly leaned forward. “I know that, and I’m sorry. But you have to tell her. Because she thinks you only read the letter. You already went to see this guy. You know what the letter says. What it might mean for this investigation. I get that it’s going to be hard on her. And I know it’s hard on you. But think about—”

She saw a copy of the _Herald _buried under some of the paperwork. SERIAL RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN. She picked it up, held it so that Jason could see it. “Four women this year. All of them in the park. Like her. The woman who nearly sacrificed her life to help you? To find me? She’d want the police to have all the information they need.”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked away. “Carly—”

“Not talking to the cops when I was missing—that’s one thing. But—” She raised her brows. “How are you gonna feel if you stay quiet, and someone else gets attacked? What if the PCPD doesn’t make the connection in time? What if this guy hurt other women and they don’t know?”

Carly pursed her lips. “But beyond that, it’s not up to you to decide what Liz can’t handle. You already went to see this guy. You hold on to what you think you know, and it’s going to eat you alive. You think she won’t see it in your face? That she won’t know you’re holding back?”

“Sonny said—”

“Since when do you take advice on women from Sonny? I love him, Jase, but his first instinct is always to keep the secret.” Carly looked at the paper again. “Elizabeth and I are never going to be best friends, but I just—if you keep this to yourself when this guy could be out there raping other women and she finds out? C’mon, Jase. You know her better than I do. How’s that going to shake out?”

She sighed. “You’re going to hurt her either way. This is not a secret you can keep forever. You already _know_ that. You know you have to tell her. So, stop pretending it’s going to suck less a few weeks from now.”

**General Hospital: Conference Room**

Ned collapsed into a chair at the long wooden table and put his head in his hands.

It had been hours since Brooke had woken up, crying, refusing to talk to anyone, and Ned simply didn’t know what to do. How to keep Lois from taking his daughter out of the hospital and taking her home.

How to get her justice.

How to make it so that this never happened. He just wanted to turn back time, give his daughter a damned cell phone.

Another Styrofoam cup of coffee was placed in front of him as his two best friends in the world sat down at the table. Neither Jax nor Alexis looked as though they had slept, and Ned was ridiculously grateful to them. His mother and grandfather were trying to run to damage control at ELQ and demanding retractions from the media, threatening them with lawsuits if they didn’t stop using Brooke’s name.

Victims of sexual assault were typically not identified, Alexis had told Ned quietly, but apparently, Brooke’s case was now the symbol of a corrupt and negligent police department, and even the normally staid _Herald_ was trumpeting her case as a need for reform. She was over eighteen, and hey, her name had been leaked, so it really wasn’t their fault.

Ned just wanted them all to go away.

“No change?” Jax murmured. He slid a few packets of creamer and sugar across the table. “She still isn’t speaking to anyone?”

“No. That—that’s not good, is it?” Ned asked. He hated how his voice sounded—high-pitched. Desperate. He needed someone to tell him what came next, and he hated that feeling.

Ned always knew the next step, _always_ knew how to make things better. He was the fucking gatekeeper for the Quartermaines—it was his job to make things better. To protect his family.

Why couldn’t he do that this time?

“I really couldn’t say,” Alexis said, with an almost helpless glance at her ex-husband. “The police are going to keep asking her for a statement unless you bar them—”

“The police,” Ned scowled. “I swear to God—” He pressed his fingertips to his temples and took in a deep breath. “Right. I don’t give a shit about the statement to the police right now. Lois just wants to take her home to Bensonhurst. Pretend none of this ever happened.”

“That might be for the best,” Alexis said, but Jax pressed his lips together, furrowing his brow.

“I think the best way forward is research,” the corporate raider declared. Ned glared at him, but Jax continued. “When I don’t know something, I find someone who does. You can’t know what’s right for Brooke. Or even what might be a good idea. None of us have ever been through anything like this.”

“No, I guess not,” Alexis murmured. “Research, huh?”

“I think we ought to talk to someone who has some experience, and this…” Jax tapped a copy of the _Port Charles Sun_’s latest edition. “This gives me ideas.”

“Burn down the offices?” Ned asked dryly. He took the paper and skimmed the cover. “It’s just another headline about the PCPD—” He hesitated. “It’s a list of their most recent scandals. Elizabeth Webber.” He frowned. “She was—she was hurt once, wasn’t she?”

“She used to work for you and Chloe, remember?” Jax said. He tapped Elizabeth’s picture. “Chloe said something to me then about her.”

“I remember this now. She was raped by the man who blackmailed Emily,” Ned murmured. “I was there the day at the courthouse when she made her outcry. Edward was upset—he wanted me to see if anything could be done for her. But there wasn’t enough evidence, they said.” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if I should ask her.”

“She’s been through a lot this summer, Jax,” Alexis told him. “Between a miscarriage in May, Ric’s assault, and then her pulmonary embolism. She nearly died a few times thanks to Ric. I don’t think we want to ask her to revisit this kind of experience.”

“Fair enough,” Jax said. “But you wouldn’t have to ask her for details. It would just be asking her how to talk to Brooke. Should you leave her alone, for example? Push her? She might have some ideas.”

“I guess.” And still, Ned hesitated. He’d already used Elizabeth once as a pawn in his misguided grudge against Sonny Corinthos. He hadn’t done anything really to push her towards Ric Lansing—but he had given Ric support and cover a few times.

He didn’t want to ask her for anything—didn’t feel like she owed him any help at all. But this wasn’t about him—it was about his little girl. And there was very little he wouldn’t do for Brooke.

**Brownstone: Living Room**

When Lucas got home from the police station, Bobbie was waiting for him. She’d been unable to talk to her son since receiving the phone call from Felicia the night before—Lucas had gone to the station, then to the hospital, and then back to the station—and Bobbie hadn’t wanted to hover.

Hadn’t wanted Lucas to feel smothered.

But she called in a favor at work and waited for him to finally walk through the door. She got to her feet. “Lucas.”

“Mom.” Her little boy stared at him, his blond hair disheveled, his dark brown eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. “I thought you—I thought you had to work—”

“Felicia called last night when she picked the girls up from the station.” Bobbie couldn’t stop herself anymore and put her arms around him. Lucas hugged her back. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to come—”

“I’m okay,” he told her quickly. He stepped back. “Really, I mean it didn’t even happen to me, and it’s stupid for me to be upset. I didn’t even do anything wrong. We found her, didn’t we? It’s not—” He swallowed and looked away, his lower lip trembling. “I thought she was dead, Mom.”

“Oh, baby—”

“I thought she was dead, and that it was my fault because I invited her and I let Kyle goad me into a fight, and then we all—we all missed her walking away. It wasn’t that long, but it didn’t matter. She looked like a broken doll laying on the ground, and I—” His voice trembled, and he swallowed again. “I checked her pulse, and I was so damn _scared_—”

She hugged him again, his words fading away as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as she had done when he was a little boy. “I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

“How can a man do that to a woman?” Lucas demanded. “And how the hell can he _keep_ doing it and get away with it?” He drew back with a sharp shake of his head. “It’s just bullshit. I wanted to go to the hospital again when we were done, but Dillon said she wasn’t seeing anyone. Refused to talk to anyone.”

“It’s going to be hard for the next few days,” Bobbie murmured. “You have to just listen to her. Let her set the pace. She knows what she needs. You just have to follow her.”

“I ever find the asshole who did this—” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he admitted. “But I suddenly understand men like Sonny and Jason today.’

He started for the back of the house where his room was, and Bobbie squeezed her eyes shut. She’d never wanted her little boy to know the horrors of the world up close, but there was no protecting him or anyone else from the evil that walked the Earth.

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

“I swear to God, the level of incompetence is really starting to piss me off,” Scott seethed as he threw the latest copy of the _Herald_ on Mac’s desk. Behind him, the mayor quietly removed his suit jacket and set it on the back of the sofa. “First I got motherfucking Ric Lansing trying to get the charges dropped—”

“Is that a possibility?”

“This _is_ the same justice system that let him have control of his wife’s medical care less than twenty-four hours after he assaulted her, so I’m not putting anything past these bitches.” Scott all but tore folders from his briefcase. “And now—now I got this serial rapist fuckery—what the hell is this bullshit, Mac?”

“I don’t know where the paper got their information,” Mac said, his expression all but blank. Scott was going to shove his thumb in that bastard’s eye in a minute. “We hadn’t officially linked them—”

“Bull-fucking-shit. _I_ linked them—my office linked them _two_ weeks ago,” Scott said with a stab of his finger. “I called you after the third—an investigation, by the way, on which your boys fucked up protocol again. Lazy ass Esposito wasn’t supposed to be working sex crimes, and yet he grabbed the case and didn’t put it on the report—”

“Taggert took over all three last week—”

“And is the _Herald_ right? Not one of these cases have had their rape kits processed?” Scott demanded. He slapped his hand on the paper. “This is amateur hour, Mac! We’ve talked about trying to get back on the right track and every time we come close—”

“Scott,” Floyd said, but his voice was quiet, so the raging district attorney didn’t hear him.

“We don’t test rape kits without a suspect,” Mac said, but this came with a heavy sigh. “That’s been the departmental policy since it even became an option to process them—”

“What, because of budgets? Fuck that shit, Mac. How the hell can you find a suspect if you don’t test for DNA? How many unprocessed rape kits do we got in this damn building?”

“We don’t get that many rapes, believe it or not,” Mac said dryly. “Maybe ten.” He hesitated. “Fourteen if you count these four.”

“I _do_ count these four,” Scott said, his teeth clenched. “How many of those ten are within the statutes of limitations? Jesus, Mac, if we get DNA profiles, we can stretch out the statutes—don’t you pay attention to the change in the laws? The DNA puts a hold on the statute, but you have to process the kits and get the profile!”

“Scott, there have been budget issues,” Floyd tried again, but this time Scott heard him. He whirled around and shook his finger at him.

“Then _you_ go hold a press conference and you tell this city that quibbling over fourteen thousand lousy dollars, a serial rapist was able to go—”

“He isn’t responsible for all fourteen,” Mac interrupted.

“How the hell do you know that?” Scott shook the paper. “Your idiot detectives couldn’t even link three cases with young brunettes in their twenties being raped at night near fountains in the park. Jesus fucking Christ, Mac! Don’t tell me that these four are the _only_ cases we have in the park—”

Mac glanced at Floyd, who shook his head. Scott narrowed his eyes. “What _is_ this? Do you want me to pull the cases? Because I can—”

“I think there are…” Mac shook his head. “One or two. I’d have to look—”

“Don’t bother. I’m assigning Kelsey to this. She’s going to personally look over every single sexual assault case run by this office since you took over—”

“You don’t have authority.” Mac lunged to his feet. “Who the hell are you—”

“I’m the fucking district attorney, and I can look at whatever case I want. You get them on my desk by the morning, Mac, and you send all the rape kits you can in this building for processing now, or I swear to God, I will leak this to the press myself.”

Scott grabbed his briefcase and files, then stormed out.

Floyd exhaled slowly. “It’s a pity I can’t fire him,” he murmured. “Don’t send the Baker case, Mac—”

“Oh, yeah, because I’m going to get away with holding out on one case,” Mac retorted with a dismissal of his hand. “Taggert worked that case.”

“Her case is officially solved, Mac.” Floyd raised his brows. “Baker confessed. Her kit wasn’t processed, but there’s no reason to.”

“Her case fits the profile—”

“And we have a confession,” Floyd pressed. “You send her case down to Baldwin, he’s pissed off enough right now to see we didn’t process the kit and start asking questions. Don’t send it. You can always tell him later her case was solved.”

Mac sat back down, put his head in his hands. “But Taggert knows it wasn’t supposed to be listed that way. It was supposed to be put on the inactive list. _I_ listed it as solved.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mac. At the end of the day, _you_ made the decision not to investigate Baker and hold up the trial. You and Dara Jensen.” Floyd put his jacket back on, buttoned it. “Which will be the statement I release to the press if this should blow up in our faces.”

Mac scowled as the mayor left, but knew he’d been left with no choice. He had two girls in college—he couldn’t afford to lose his job right now, and that’s exactly would happen if the Baker case went public before the election.

After all, Tom Baker had confessed. Elizabeth had gotten her justice. Even if hadn’t happened in the way it supposed to—

This…the fact that her case seemed similar was just a coincidence. It had to be. She was in his head because of what had happened this summer. He called his secretary into begin collecting the case files.

**Elizabeth** **’s Condo: Living Room**

She was almost grateful when the doorman in the lobby telephoned her to say that Ned Ashton was downstairs to see her. Elizabeth honestly couldn’t think what Ned would want from her, but she was happy for the distraction.

Jason had had to go to work, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts. She’d thought about calling Lucky a few times, just to ask about the case. Or to call Bobbie and check on Lucas. She’d tried to sketch, she’d tried to paint. She’d tried watching television and even had attempted to do some reading. But nothing distracted her.

She was starting to get her energy back and struggled to find something to do with it— should she be looking for a job? Some way to fill her hours?

She pulled open the door when Ned knocked, and her chest ached at the sight of Emily and Jason’s cousin, a worried and exhausted father, as he stood on her doorstep. “Ned. I’m surprised to see you.”

“I’m sorry to just show up here,” he said. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat. “Can—Can I come in?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Do you—do you want some water? I keep coffee for Jason, if you want some.”

“No, no, I’ve been drinking my weight in coffee thanks to Jax and Alexis.” Ned rubbed the back of his neck. “Now that I’m here, I’m reconsidering why I came. I don’t have the right to ask you anything—”

“Because of Ric?” Elizabeth tilted her head to the side as she sat on her sofa. She gestured for Ned to sit in the armchair and waited until he did so. “Jason said you helped us figure out it was the house, which led us to the real estate agent. I don’t care that you worked with Ric. I know how hard it must have been when Kristina died last year.”

“You’re…too generous.” Ned rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to my daughter, Brooke, last night. She was attacked and—” He struggled to get the words out. “Raped.”

“Emily called me.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Did she tell you about what happened to me?”

“Oh. No. I—Jax remembered Chloe saying something, and I remembered the Baker trial. I—” Ned shook his head. “I don’t know what to do to help her. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I just want to make it better, and I know I can’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be asking—”

“Do you think it would help if I talked to her?” Elizabeth offered almost before she had even realized it. “I was a little younger than her, but I remember those first few days. They were…they were the worst of my life. And eventually I went to a support group. I could—if you thought it would help.”

Ned looked stunned. “I had only thought to ask you for some advice, but—” He swallowed hard. “God, yes. I think if Brooke could look at you and know it doesn’t have to mean the end of everything—” He got to his feet. “I would be profoundly grateful.”

She also stood. “Of course. I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow. She might need some time to process and just…be alone. The first twenty-four hours, I was mostly in denial. I didn’t want anyone to look at me.” Elizabeth managed a half smile. “Eventually I let people in.”

“Thank you,” Ned reached for her hand, folded it between both of his. “Thank you. You have no idea—”

“It’s good to know you’re not alone,” Elizabeth told him. “I can at least let Brooke know that.”


	8. Chapter Twenty-Seven (Content Warning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the final scene has a trigger warning. See [Content Notes](http://madworld.dearisobel.org/about/content-notes/) for more information.

* * *

_She wants to go home_  
_But nobody's home_  
_That's where she lies_  
_Broken inside_  
_With no place to go_  
_No place to go to_  
_To dry her eyes_  
_Broken inside_  
\- Nobody’s Home, Avril Lavigne

* * *

_Thursday, July 17, 2003_

**General Hospital: Brooke** **’s Room**

That morning, Brooke’s doctor had agreed to move her out of the ICU with its clear, transparent walls, and into her own room. She’d begged to be released, begged to go home, but then her parents had just argued again about whether Brooke would go home to the gatehouse or to Bensonhurst—and though Olivia had managed to quiet them both—Brooke stopped asking to leave.

She was tired of her parents arguing. It was the dominant memory of her childhood and had been the reason she had never believed or even hoped her parents would get back together. She had no memory of them being together and couldn’t imagine them _ever_ being in love enough to create a child.

She refused all visitors, refused to talk to the police. This just needed to be over. She wanted to close her eyes, go to sleep, and just never wake up. Every time she was conscious, there was pain. Her head. Her arms.

And inside. Sometimes she woke gasping for air, the stabbing pain of being held down while someone forced himself inside her—

Brooke couldn’t even curl up, couldn’t even disappear into dreamless sleep. Her ribs pained her, her dreams haunted her—

Every second of her life was a waking nightmare, and sleep provided only minimal escape.

Her father lightly tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Brooke, I know you said you didn’t want to see anyone—”

“And that’s still true,” Brooke muttered, but she couldn’t force any anger or heat into her words. All of that took too much energy.

“I just—I thought you might want to talk to someone—”

“I already told you, I’m not talking to a shrink—” Brooke turned her head to face the door, then blinked because the woman standing next to her father wasn’t a shrink. She’d seen the woman’s face all over the newspapers for the last few weeks. “What—”

“I can go, Brooke,” Elizabeth Webber said. “The last thing you need is someone forcing you to talk to anyone. I—I know what that’s like.”

Brooke fumbled for the remote on the left side of her bed slightly. “How?” she asked with suspicion. She furrowed her brow. Why would her father bring _this_ woman to see her?

“Because when it happened to me, I spent the next three days in bed, and then a few more weeks pretending it had never happened,” Elizabeth said, meeting her eyes. “And when I finally told people, it felt like it was all they ever saw when they looked at me.”

Brooke looked at her father, but Ned’s face remained expressionless. She knew her father hated being powerless, of not being able to fix this for her. So clearly, he’d gone out to find a way to fix it.

He was trying, and Brooke so desperately wanted to believe this was something that her father _could_ make go away.

“You can come in, I guess. Just you,” she said quickly. Elizabeth turned, flashed a half smile at Ned, then let the dark wooden door fall shut behind her. “I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth looked around the room, exhaling slowly. “It wasn’t so long ago I was stuck in a room like this,” she murmured. “I hated the ICU, too. Hated the way people seemed to stop and stare at me. I mean, maybe it was in my head, but it just felt like I was some sort of circus show.”

She sat in the chair near Brooke’s bed and folded her hands in her lap. “Do…do you want to ask me anything?”

“I—” Brooke bit her lip. “When did it happen to you?”

“I was sixteen,” Elizabeth said. “Valentine’s Day, 1998.” She rubbed her hands together, staring down at the chipped nails. “It’s been five years.”

Brooke leaned her had back against the pillow. “Did you—did they get the guy?”

“Eventually. Not for what happened to me. They couldn’t prove it by then. I did—” Elizabeth shook her head. “I guess people would say I did everything wrong, you know? I took a shower. I waited to report. And by the time I did, there was nowhere to look. I mean, I did a rape kit right after and gave them the dress I had been wearing, but I still didn’t officially file a report.”

“Is that why you’re here? To tell me to talk to the cops?” Brooke demanded with a scowl. “I’m _not_ going to. Some asshole already told everyone about me, and I just—maybe if the world didn’t know—but—” The pressure building behind her eyes released and tears slid down her cheek. “I can’t. I can’t say it out loud.”

“I get that,” Elizabeth said softly. “I’ve never really—I locked it away for a long time. At first, I could only—I could only give some details. I couldn’t face it. Even when I did face it—I still only did it halfway. There’s no right way to handle something this big, Brooke. You have to do what’s right for you, you know? I can wish I did things differently. Hindsight gives me that ability to see everything I could have done to make it easier for me, but that’s _me_.”

She bit her lip. “I was in a survivor’s group for a while as part of my therapy, and God, the stories broke my heart. I started to tell myself I’d been lucky to be attacked by a stranger. At least it wasn’t my boyfriend. Or my father, or my brother.” Her fist clenched in her lap. “But that was me trying to make it less awful, trying to minimize what happened to me.”

Brooke closed her eyes. “I don’t want to say it out loud,” she managed. “I don’t want it to be true, and I don’t want anyone to know. But I guess…I guess that ship has sailed on that. I belong to a prominent family, so I guess I don’t have a choice—”

“You _always_ have a choice, Brooke. He didn’t take that from you.” Elizabeth hesitated. “When it happened, I had never been with anyone. I hadn’t even really been in love. I couldn’t imagine ever letting someone touch me because then—then they might see how broken and dirty I was.”

Brooke choked as a sob pushed its way up her throat. “I don’t like boys. I never ever wanted—” The tears came fast now. “I knew someone whose guy friend found out she was gay, and he—he _forced_ her to prove she really wanted boys. And I was always scared—and now—” She managed a deep breath. “Does it ever stop being the worst thing that ever happened to you? How do you sleep and not think about it? How do you stop?”

“Time. Nothing but time,” Elizabeth admitted. “And sometimes…sometimes, the dreams come again. I wish—I wish I could give you sunshine and rainbows, Brooke, and promise you there will be a turning point where it _stops_ being something that you think about. For years, I thought of myself as the girl who got raped, and while I don’t give myself that label anymore, there will never be a time when I don’t see that day as…”

Elizabeth hesitated. “It’s like this giant thing in the middle of my life. There will _always_ be a before and an after for me. A time before I got raped, and everything that happened after.”

Her chest ached as Brooke tried to take another deep breath, tried to stop crying. “B-but it got better.”

“It did. I started to let people in. I didn’t have a choice about Lucky Spencer. He found me that night and took me back to his house where his father and his aunt took care of me. Bobbie became someone I could say anything to. I eventually told my grandmother and my sister. And others in my life if it became relevant. I fell in love—with Lucky, and then Jason. For a long time, I thought of myself as two people. Lizzie came before, and I used to blame her. That wild child who lied, broke the rules, and stayed out late. I did _everything_ I could to drown Lizzie’s voice out.”

Brooke sniffled and took the tissue Elizabeth offered. “You don’t anymore?”

“No. Lizzie wasn’t to blame. _ I_ wasn’t to blame. I walked through the park one night and I sat on a bench, and that was something I had the _right _to do. It didn’t matter what I wore, where I was, or how late it was. Someone came in and tried to steal that from me, and eventually, it became easier to blame him and not myself.”

Brooke blinked at her. Bench. Park. “Y-you said they caught him. H-how did you know?”

“He admitted it. It’s—complicated.” Elizabeth shook her head. “He denied it later, and they couldn’t make a case against him.”

“There are other girls. That’s what the papers say.” Brooke met Elizabeth’s eyes. “Maybe…talking to the police…that could help them, right?”

“It could.”

“I should—I should try to help so that it doesn’t happen to anyone else. I—I can do that. I guess. Tell them what happened. Once,” she added quickly. “If I just say it once, then maybe it won’t hurt so much.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth said softly. “But don’t expect miracles, Brooke. This—this isn’t going to go away tomorrow or if you wish really hard. This is something that’s going to stay with you. Expecting to put it in a box in your head and lock it away—I’ve tried that.”

“Can—if I wanted to talk about it again, could I talk to you?” Brooke asked hesitantly.

“I’ll leave you my number,” Elizabeth said, looking at the table for a pen and paper. “You call me any hour of the day or night. I will be here for you if you need it.” She scribbled something and handed it to Brooke. “That’s my land line and my cell phone.”

“Thanks. Um, I guess I should tell my dad to call the police and tell them—”

“There’s no rush,” Elizabeth said, getting to her feet. “Brooke—”

“If I don’t do it now, I might never do it.’

**General Hospital: Conference Room**

Taggert could see, even before Ned took a seat across from him at the table, that Brooke’s father was boiling with rage—that it lay simmering beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over given even the slightest opportunity. His ex-wife, Lois, didn’t bother to sit, though the woman who had traveled with Lois—Olivia Falconieri—gingerly took a seat next to Ned. Taggert was a bit mystified to see Lois throwing angry looks in her friend’s direction.

“I appreciate you meeting with me,” Taggert began.

Before he could continue, Ned leaned forward and pointed a finger at the table, all but stabbing it. “Let’s get one thing straight. The _only_ reason I am in this room with you and not with Alexis preparing a gigantic lawsuit is because my daughter has decided to make a statement and Elizabeth Webber said you could be trusted.”

Taggert exhaled slowly. He had shown Elizabeth some kindness all of those years ago, and now he was benefiting from it. After the way the department had screwed her over, he hadn’t expected that. “Ned—”

“Are the papers right?” Lois demanded, her face mottled with red, her dark eyes molten with fury. “Is my daughter a victim of a serial rapist?”

“Yes,” Taggert said.

“How long have you known?” Olivia asked quietly. Lois threw her another dirty look, but Olivia ignored her. “My son is thinking about quitting. You know that, don’t you?”

“I started to suspect about two weeks ago when I transferred to Major Crimes,” Taggert told the trio. “I took a look at the open case files. The officer assigned had reasons to doubt it, but there were too many similarities. The DA’s office is on board with linking the cases. We were held back from issuing a public alert.”

“By who? The mayor?” Ned demanded. “Why?”

“A few reasons that don’t matter,” Taggert offered with a shake of his head. “But more likely because it’s an election year.”

Olivia raised a thin brow. “Should you be telling us that?”

“Why the hell are you even here?” Lois exploded, and Olivia looked at her now, mystified. “Brooke is_ my_ daughter, not yours—”

“Because I asked her to be,” Ned snapped at his ex-wife. “Because we’re both too angry and upset, and I wanted someone else Brooke trusted to listen to an investigation update. Her son works for the PCPD, Lois. _You_ asked her to come here to Port Charles. Let her help.”

“I’ll go.” Olivia got to her feet. “I don’t want to make things worse—”

Lois scrubbed her hands over her face, digging her heels into her eyes. “No. No. Ned is right. I’m sorry.”

“There isn’t much Floyd can do to me,” Taggert said, answering Olivia’s question as if the intervening argument hadn’t happened. “Scott Baldwin has assigned an ADA to this case full-time, and Kelsey Joyce is already getting us the extra funding we need to test all the rape kits we have as a backlog. We should have those results back in a few weeks.”

“My daughter’s life has been destroyed,” Ned said. “And you don’t have a single lead?”

“We have leads,” Taggert said, a bit defensively. “But, no, we don’t have any suspects. But based on the types of women this asshole targets and the way he targets them, we have places to look. I’m putting the entire unit on this, and I’ll be in charge—”

“Why should that make me feel better?” Lois jabbed a finger at him. “Did you find Carly Corinthos? She was locked behind a damn wall in the house of the man her son _told_ you kidnapped her, and you still couldn’t find her. His wife had to nearly die in order to make that happen.”

“I—” Taggert shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I had more to give you—”

“You tell Mac and the mayor that I don’t care what asshole I have to pick up off the streets,” Ned began as he shoved himself to his feet. “I am putting the full force of the Quartermaines behind who ever runs against that son of the bitch in the fall. He sacrificed my daughter for his fucking election. You and the rest of the PCPD—”

He sliced his hand through the air. “I am _through_ accepting the bullshit this town has for police protection. You couldn’t protect my daughter, my fiancée last year—and you have no problems throwing innocent women to the wolves to cover your own asses—it has to stop.”

He stormed out of the room, Lois and Olivia on his heels.

**Brownstone: Living Room**

Lulu dropped her bags on the chair and scowled at the police officer in the foyer. “Why are you here bothering my cousin?” she demanded.

Dante Falconieri rolled his eyes at his friend’s younger sister. Apparently, according to Lucky, Lulu had taken the first flight home when she found out Brooke had been hurt and was now acting like a guard dog for Lucas Jones. “We just have a few follow-ups—”

“Because the only thing you assholes _definitely_ know is that Lucas, Dillon, and Kyle _didn__’t_ do it.” Lulu lifted her chin. “So, go find the piece of shit who did—”

Dante held up his hands. “Hey. Knock off the attitude. Your brother is one of us, remember? And I just started this job a month ago.”

None of the fire was extinguished from Lulu’s angry dark eyes. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m not pissed at my brother either? That could have happened to any of us—Brooke walked through the park like I’ve done a thousand times—” Her voice wavered slightly. “She never would have done that if we’d known—”

“Brooke’s my friend, too,” Dante returned, more gently. “We grew up together in Bensonhurst—”

Lulu perched on the arm of the chair and sighed. “Right. Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot—” She chewed on her bottom lip. “If I hadn’t been in London, I probably would have been with them that night. We do a movie night every month, and it was Dillon’s turn to pick the movie.” She folded her arms. “Last month, we invited Kyle for the first time, and it was a major drama because Lucas is like a five-year-old who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Dante tilted his head. “Why does _everyone_ hate Kyle Radcliffe?”

“Oh, we have legitimate reasons. He seduced Maxie in the spring and then broadcast their first time on a webcam. Complete asshole.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But like Maxie tells us, that’s her shit to forgive, not ours. Whatever. Anyway, if I had been there, I could have done something. Maybe I would have seen her leave. I could have stopped her. Or I could have—” She shook her head again. “Lucas isn’t here. He’s at Kelly’s. Trying to keep his mind off of things.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Dante hesitated. “Did Brooke go last month? Was she part of the group then? I know she moved here early in June—”

“No, she was still having a temper tantrum. And I don’t even know her that well. She only visited a few times when we were kids, and sometimes Ned had me and Maxie and Georgie to come play with her. We weren’t that close. And we didn’t even go to the Harwin, if you’re wondering if maybe the group was targeted. That’s why you’re asking, right?”

“Yeah.” Dante lifted his brows. “How did you know?”

“That’s how this works. These are the questions. Was Brooke targeted? How did the asshole find her? Was she random?” She shrugged. “So, no, that was the first time at the Harwin for the group at large. That’s Dillon’s favorite theater. It shows all the old movies. We usually hit the Loewe’s or AMC out at the mall. We went to AMC last month.” Lulu hesitated. “Hey, is my brother okay with all of this?”

“Lucky?” Dante asked. “Yeah. I guess, why?”

“Oh. I just worried it might bring back bad memories.” Dante’s mystified look must have read on his face because Lulu continued. “When he was sixteen, he found Elizabeth in the park after she’d been raped. I was just worried about him, that’s all. Can you tell him to return my phone calls when you see him?”

**General Hospital: Administration Suite**

Alexis shifted uncomfortably in her chair and watched as Ned paced the small office she occupied as the hospital’s attorney. Her ex-fiancé had been on the phone for the last twenty minutes trying to find someone willing to run against Garrett Floyd before the deadline at the end of the month.

Ned tossed his flip phone onto the glass conference table with a grimace. “The Barringtons have already promised their support to Floyd.”

Alexis pursed her lips. “They weren’t swayed by the recent reports?”

“They think it’s too soon to assign blame.” Ned rolled his shoulders. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

She shook her head. “Uh uh. Don’t ask me. I’ve been a mother for less than a year and I’m pretty sure I’m messing it up.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t fix this, Alexis. I wouldn’t let her have a car. I took away her phone—”

“You were disciplining her—and you never would have done that if you’d known there was a serial rapist targeting young brunettes.” Alexis leaned back in her chair. “You could always file suit against the city—”

Ned hesitated. “Maybe, but…the whole world already knows this happened to her. Elizabeth told me Brooke is struggling with that. She wants to make a statement to the police and move on with her life.” He grimaced. It burned at him, though, that such callous decisions had been made without even an of ounce concern for all the damage that could be done.

Someone had to pay.

“It’s good that she’s ready to make a statement, and I’m glad Elizabeth could be there to help her.” Alexis hesitated. “Ned, it doesn’t matter what happens with the investigation, with the election—this is always going to have happened. Don’t be so hard on yourself for not having all the answers yet.”

“I’ve never been able to be there for my daughter,” Ned murmured. “I’ve never been a good father. I just wanted to be better this time.”

“Maybe you haven’t been the world’s best father.” Alexis rose from her chair and rounded the desk to step in front of him. She put her hands on his cheek, framing his face. “But you’re a good man, and you’re going to do the best you can. That’s all you can ask of yourself. Be there for Brooke, listen to what she needs. Everything else can—and should—wait.”

**Elizabeth** **’s Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth managed a tired smile when Jason came over that night. She brushed her lips against his. “Hey. I hope you don’t mind Kelly’s again.” She gestured towards the counter in her kitchen where takeout containers sat. “I went by the hospital today and I wasn’t really up to anything else.”

“No, no, that’s—” He swallowed, slid his fingers through his hair. “I forgot you were talking to Brooke today. I should have called.”

She opened a drawer to pull out some utensils. “It’s so different for her,” Elizabeth murmured. “No one knew about me. No one I didn’t want to know, anyway. But someone leaked her name, and she had to go to the hospital—it’s been a circus.” She sighed. “Kind of like this summer when I was in the ICU and all the papers, you know? I felt like I was on display.”

“Why would they leak her name? Because of the Quartermaines?” Jason took the food from her and set it on the table. They both sat down but neither started eating. “To sell papers?”

“Bobbie told me it was two separate leaks. Brooke’s name and the serial rapist—” Elizabeth pushed her chili around in the plastic bowl. “Justus called from Philly—he thinks we should go after the PCPD after all because of the negligence—and I just—I don’t know. I can’t do it.”

“They put you in danger. They didn’t warn people about the park,” Jason said. “Do you think that’s something they should get away with?”

“No.” She sighed. “But I just keep thinking about that poor girl, looking at me and asking me if it gets better. If it would all go away.” Her throat thickened and she swallowed hard. “I should have lied to her. I should have told yes, of course. It gets better. It goes away, and you’ll never have to think about it again.” She turned to look out the window. “It gets better, but it never ever goes away. And you never know what will trigger the memory.”

She looked back at him, at the untouched dinners in front of them, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I feel like every time we see each other, I’m crying again, or—” Elizabeth shook her head and shoved away from the table, crossing to the sofa. She folded herself up into the corner. “I don’t know why you bother.”

Behind her, she heard him sigh and get up. He sat next to her on the sofa, at the other end with space between them. “I bother,” he said, stressing the word, “because I love you. I’m sorry about what Brooke’s going through. What it’s brought back for you—”

“I told you—it was already in my head.” Elizabeth leaned back against the sofa, tilting her head up to the ceiling. “That last day with Ric, when he was coming after me—I’m not even sure if I had time to realize that the fear I felt—that it was familiar. That it was something I had lived with for months after I was raped. It took me _years _to walk through that park alone without breaking into a sweat or a panic attack. And then when I started to think about being drugged—” She bit her lip. “And of course, that letter.” She looked at him. “Did you get rid of it?”

Jason hesitated. And there was something in his eyes, in the way the muscles in his cheeks twitched slightly. Her heart started to pound. “Jason.”

“No, I didn’t throw it away,” he said finally. He reached into his back pocket and took out the letter which had been folded several times over, then looked at her. “I told you that I read it.”

“What else did you do?” she asked. She shoved herself to her feet, her heart pounding. Because she knew—she _knew _what he was going to say next. Her mouth dry, her head screaming, she swallowed hard. “Did you go to see him?”

He winced, closed his eyes, and everything inside her just exploded.

“I shouldn’t have,” Jason acknowledged. “I wish I hadn’t. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. I told myself I would go and keep whatever he told me to myself. If you ever wanted to know, I could…I could tell you then.” He stood. “I had a friend in the prison let me in to see Baker a few days ago. I wanted to warn him to stay away from you. But then he said something—so I read the letter. After Brooke, I realized if what he said was true—”

“_Stop_! Don’t say another—” She broke off abruptly, her mouth dry, her heart racing so fast—the room started to spin. Elizabeth moved hastily around the back of the sofa. Wanting something between them. _Needing_ something between them. She couldn’t…she couldn’t breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make it all go away—but instead—

_Don_ _’t say another…_

Despite the artificial cold of the air conditioning unit hanging in one of her windows, the air felt more bitter than that. That was all it took—just the mention of his name, the closing of her eyes, and she could still summon the sensation of bitter February winter, the wetness of the snow after he’d stripped her of her warm wool coat. It had seeped into her dress, drenching her skin.

_Not a word. _

Even taking hot showers every day for more than a month hadn’t been able to banish that feeling from her mind.

“Elizabeth?”

Jason’s voice came from somewhere far away—as Lucky’s had that night. She’d heard Lucky calling her name, then the vanishing of the weight from above her. The bright burst of pain as he’d taken a hunk of her hair and slammed it one more time against the frozen dirt—

“Elizabeth—”

Something touched her shoulder, and Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. She stumbled back, her hands flying out to push against whatever was next to her—she could sense that weight more than see it.

And then she was back in the present. In July 2003, not February 1998. Inside her small living room, with the warm yellow light filtering through the lamp shades and the humming of her air conditioner.

Not outside. Not on the ground. Not in the snow.

“Elizabeth—”

She looked at Jason. He stood a few feet from her, his hands up in surrender, a scratch on his forearm already beginning to drip with blood. She looked down at her hands, at the blood underneath one of her fingernails before looking back at him. His eyes were bright with worry, with sorrow.

He’d done this to her. He’d brought this feeling back. Hadn’t she _told_ him not to do it? To leave it alone?

“I just wanted it to stay locked up,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked at the letter sitting on her table as it weren’t a ticking time bomb. “I wanted it to stay _away_.”

“I know. I’m sorry—”

“I asked you to not to do anything.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I—I already have nightmares. I see the panic room every night. I see Carly and I can’t get to her, and he comes home, and he stops me. He puts me in there with her—”

Jason said nothing, only swallowed hard, but now his eyes were damp. What right did he have to cry? _This was his fault._

“I had nightmares last year. Of the dark. Of never getting back out of it. Bad things come in the dark. They happen in the dark, when you can’t see to stop them. They grab you—” She choked off the words, pressed her hands to her mouth. “I can’t…I can’t…I have them, too. I’m locked in the dark, and I can hear Carly screaming. And now I’m going to think about the snow. About lying on that ground and not being able to stop him. How I felt like I was being torn in two—”

Jason took a single step towards her, and Elizabeth backed up until she hit the wall and then slid to the ground. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t be that girl. She wasn’t even put together yet, and he was breaking her again.

“I thought it would be different,” she managed. She raised her eyes to look at him as he stood across the room, holding one hand against the scratch—probably to stop the blood from dripping. “I thought you could be someone I could trust.”

“That’s why I had to tell you. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“I guess your epiphany came too late,” she retorted. “I asked you to not to do _anything_. Because I can’t—I don’t want to know what he said. I need you to go. I can’t…I can’t have people I don’t trust in my life. Not ever again.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ll go because you’re asking me to, and I’ve done enough to hurt you. I know that, but Elizabeth…I know it was wrong to go when you’d told me not to do anything. That was your decision to make, not mine.”

“Too little, too late.” Elizabeth forced herself to rise but remained against the wall. “I want you to go.” When he still didn’t move, she screamed it this time. “Go! Get out!”

He went, taking the letter with him. She should have been angry about that, but she didn’t want it in her house. Didn’t want to have to look at it. Touch it.

When the door closed behind him, she slid back onto the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs, tucking her head down.

And cried.

Outside her door, Jason made a call and then waited until the elevator at the end of the hall opened and his mother stepped out. She carried a black bag and hurried towards him.

Monica frowned at him. “Why—”

“She threw me out.” Jason shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t talk about it. The door’s open. Please. Just make sure she’s all right. That it was just—Please.”

“Okay.”

“I have to go.”

He left then, afraid if he waited until Monica was done, he might not be able to go at all.

And she wanted him gone.


	9. Chapter Twenty-Eight

_Come and see him when she is gone_  
_He's surprised but knows he is wrong_  
_A simple case of do or die_  
_And now she's cut and run_  
_Your vision let you down_  
_You almost let her drown_  
\- Liberty, Olive

* * *

_Friday, July 18, 2003_

**Corinthos & Morgan Warehouse: Main Floor**

Bernie had called Sonny just past dawn, passing on a report from a concerned night shift manager. He didn’t have a lot of the details, but something was wrong with Jason—he wasn’t hurt, Bernie said, but Sonny was needed.

So Sonny dragged himself out of bed, murmured something to a sleeping Carly, and came over to the warehouse at six in the morning to find a cluster of his men talking just inside the large bay doors that led to the dock out on Lake Ontario.

He followed their concerned looks and frowned, spying a familiar set of shoulders lifting coffee sacks out of crates and handing them off to the next worker. When was the last time Jason did grunt work in the warehouse?

“How long has he been out here?” Sonny asked. “He looks like hell.”

“Since last night,” Max Giambetti murmured. “The foreman said he was in his office all night going over books and then came out here around three in the morning.”

Sonny sighed and crossed the floor. “Jason—”

“I’m busy.” Jason reached for another sack, but the employee who had been handing them to him was standing with his hands at his side. Sonny had signaled him to stop work. “Sonny—”

“Take a walk with me. The guys got this.”

And Jason followed—not because he wanted to, but because Jason would never countermand an order in front of the men, warehouse or organization. Sonny was in charge, and Jason followed him.

Wordlessly, Sonny led Jason outside, to the pier that set out over the lake. His back to the muddy brown water, Sonny raised a brow. “You suddenly have a hankering for back breaking work on no sleep?”

Up close, Jason looked even worse. His eyes were red, nearly blood shot. His hair was sticking in all directions, his jaw was shaded with a day-old beard. And his t-shirt was wrinkled as if he’d worn it the day before.

“What’s going on, Jase?” He hesitated. “Is Elizabeth okay?” Ah, there it was. The flicker in Jason’s eye. “You tell her about Baker?”

All Jason offered was a short nod. “Just that I went to see him. I never got a chance to say the rest—she was upset—”

“She’ll get past it,” Sonny said, but he was unsure. Jason’s relationship with Elizabeth was fragile, still in the rebuilding phases. Even a light blow could knock it back to its foundations. “I’m sorry it shook out like that.”

“It’s…” Jason rolled his shoulders. “It’s fine.”

“Jason.” Sonny tilted his head. “I know Elizabeth. I know you. You’re not _fine_.”

Jason hesitated, pressed his lips together, looked away across the lake where Spoon Island rose out of the water, towering over the western landscape. “She threw me out. She cried.”

His tone was even, the sentences short and choppy. Sonny knew that Jason had said it in the order in which it mattered. He was upset Elizabeth had thrown him out, but making her cry—

But all Sonny did was nod. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry for that. Give her some time, some space. Why don’t you take off for the day? Get some sleep?”

“Can’t. Can’t sleep. Don’t—” Jason swallowed. “If I stop, I think. And I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay. Well, I’d rather you not be around heavy machinery so if you need something physical to do, Bernie’s been bitching about reorganizing the storage room. He’s in his office.”

“Okay.” Jason disappeared back inside, and a moment later, Max emerged, his expression still worried. “He okay, Boss?”

“I don’t know,” Sonny admitted. “I guess we’ll have to see.” He rubbed his neck. “Give Bernie a call. See if he can talk Jason into going home in an hour or two. He might do it if it comes from someone else.”

And if Jason didn’t go home by the end of the day, if he didn’t get some sleep, Sonny might have to do something more drastic. He didn’t think Jason had slept more than a handful hours since that damn letter from Tom Baker had arrived.

Something needed to be done.

**General Hospital: Gail** **’s Office**

She hadn’t had an appointment scheduled with Gail that day, but she must have sounded terrible on the phone because Gail’s secretary had penciled her in for Gail’s lunch hour. And now, sitting in front of her grandmother’s friend, Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to her.

How to explain any of it. How what Jason had done seemed like the worst thing he could have done to her. She was in the process of divorcing an actually abusive sociopath who had nearly killed her, and yet…

“Why don’t you simply start at the beginning, dear?” Gail asked as she handed Elizabeth a glass of water. She did not take her seat on her chair, but rather stayed next to her on the sofa. “Just tell me what happened yesterday. Hilda said you were upset this morning. That you’d had a panic attack last night?”

“Panic attack,” Elizabeth repeated, closing her eyes. “That’s what Monica said. Jason called her after—but yeah. I—I don’t even know where the beginning is, because when I try to explain it to myself, I don’t understand it. How did it—How did it happen—why did something—he didn’t even _tell_ me—” She sipped her tea, more to stop the babbling flow of nonsense than from thirst.

“What did you do yesterday?” Gail asked. “Was Jason the only person you spoke to?”

“No.” Elizabeth sighed. “No.” She set the tea on the table in front of them and clasped her fingers in her lap. “Ned asked me to talk to his daughter. To just…give her advice. And so I did. And I tried—I tried to be honest with her, but I feel like I messed it up. I didn’t—I didn’t really know what to tell her. And I guess talking about it…with what we’ve been doing in here about what happened with Ric—” She squeezed her eyes shut until she almost felt dizzy. “The fact that Ric basically _raped_ me God knows how many times thanks to the pills—”

She pressed a fist to her mouth. “It’s hard to say it out loud, but I _need_ to. But with Brooke being attacked in the park, with that newspaper article about the other attacks, and the letter from…” Elizabeth opened her eyes and leaned back against the sofa, suddenly exhausted. “It wasn’t even what happened with Jason. Not really. Or it wasn’t _just_ that.”

“And what happened with Jason?”

“He didn’t _just _read the letter.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He went to see Baker. I still—I still don’t know what he said. I don’t want to know. But he went to see him, and it’s—it’s what’s been bothering him. I guess. He knew how upset I’d be but even I didn’t—” She met Gail’s kind eyes. “He took out the letter and that’s all it was. He just took it out of his pocket, put it on the coffee table, and I—I flipped out.”

She pressed her hands to her face. “I was in the park. I could literally feel the snow on my skin and how cold it was that night. The sound of his heavy breathing, the weight of him on top of me, inside—” Her voice broke. “I could hear Lucky’s voice—God, if he ever knew how close he was—he’d never forgive himself. I just—I was in that moment again, Gail. Being raped again. It was like living in a nightmare while still being awake, and I couldn’t make it go away. I couldn’t make it stop. I know I was screaming, and Jason tried to help me— I scratched him—”

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, too restless to stay in one place. She paced the small room, stopping by the window that overlooked the park. She couldn’t see the fountain from here, but that didn’t even matter. “When I came back to myself, and I saw Jason standing there, I—couldn’t stand it. I blamed him. It was like he’d—God, it was like _he__’d_ raped me. Just like Ric. Just like Tom. And that’s _insane_, because all he did was take out a fucking letter—”

Her voice broke again and this time, Elizabeth couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the sobs bubbling up and breaking free. She wrapped her arms around her torso, her shoulders shaking. “I threw him out. I told myself and him I couldn’t trust him.”

“Elizabeth.” Gail’s voice was closer now and Elizabeth opened her eyes to see her therapist standing in front of her. “Do you really think it happened because of a letter?”

“I—” Elizabeth shook her head, her chest heaving. She shook it again. Struggled to get out the words. “No. No. It was just—it was the last piece. I hadn’t really—I guess I haven’t really dealt with any of it. I keep thinking I have, but I keep falling apart. When does it stop? When do I get to _stop_ having to start all over again?”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “It’s stupid for me to think Jason and I could work right now. I am a _complete_ disaster and he deserves someone who isn’t certifiably insane.” She turned back to the window, rubbing a fist over her heart. It was the right thing to do. To let him go. She knew that.

“Maybe you’re not in a position to be in a new relationship,” Gail allowed as she came to stand next to Elizabeth. “But is that why you’d step back from him now? Because you’re not ready?”

“No.” Elizabeth’s breath was shaky. “No. But he’s…there’s no way…he thinks I’m strong. And I’m not. And when he figures it out—”

“He’ll leave you,” Gail said when Elizabeth broke off abruptly. “So you’re planning to leave first.”

“Just like last year,” Elizabeth murmured. She closed her eyes. “God. Why do I do that? _Why_ is it so easy for me to walk away from Jason? I stuck with Ric. With Lucky. When I shouldn’t have. But at the first sign of trouble with Jason, I’m right out the door. What is _wrong_ with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s quite the question I would pose to myself, but I think maybe that should be your homework this time.” Gail touched her shoulder. “And remember what we talked about before. You’ve been through a lot these few months. And this is coming from the woman who has known you your entire life, Elizabeth. I remember you running down these halls, hoping your grandfather would chase you, hiding from your parents who wanted to take you back to Colorado.”

Elizabeth laughed, despite her tears. “I always begged them to let me stay here. With Gram and Gramps. They knew me. They loved me. They never wanted me to be anyone else.” She exhaled slowly. “The thing is…I’ve never understood why he would stay. Why would he want me?” she said softly. “After everything I’ve done to him, Gail, and God, it’s been_ legion_. I’ve never done anything except hurt him. Why does he still want me? Why can’t he just…” Her throat burned. “And if he does really want me, he won’t stay. Something will blow it up. Something will go wrong.”

“Something?”

“_I__’ll_ do something awful to make him go away.” She used the heel of her hand to swipe at the tears. “I always do.” She laughed bitterly. “I did it last night. I threw him out. It’s not even the first time I’ve hurt him.”

“Oh?”

“I believed Lucky when he said Jason hurt him. I walked away from him—I was so angry with him. And he offered me the world, and I said no.”

“Why?”

“I—” Elizabeth stared at her. “I couldn’t walk away from Lucky. Lucky never walked away from me, and he needed me. I had to see him through that. And then Jason…he went. And he was gone by the time I realized that—And then Zander…” She looked away. “I just…I’m in love with him, and I think he loves me, too. But I can’t believe it. Because I don’t deserve it.”

Gail glanced at her clock. “We only have a few more moments, and I have another appointment, or I would keep you here.” She leaned forward. “So, let me leave you with this. I can’t make you feel like you deserve love. I wish I could flip a switch—that it were that easy. But you are loved. And you are worth it. So, if you really want to know why he’d want you, then you should ask him.”

**PCPD: Conference Room**

Ned braced Brooke’s elbow as his daughter gingerly lowered herself into a chair across from Lieutenant Taggert and the lawyer lady who had introduced herself as Kelsey. Brooke had only checked out of the hospital a few hours earlier, and Ned had wanted her to wait, but—

She just wanted this over with. She wanted to move on with her life and to stop thinking about this. She’d told her mother to wait back at the gate house, exhausted by her parents and their constant arguing. She didn’t want to go back to Brooklyn with her mother, but she didn’t want to stay here either.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

Except for all of this to just go away.

“We appreciate you coming in, Miss Ashton,” Kelsey said quietly. “We’d like to tape this to make sure your statement is taken accurately. Would you—would you prefer if I took the statement alone or—”

“You mean do I want to talk about being raped in front of my father and a guy cop?” Brooke demanded. She clenched her hands into fists on the table. “Look, he’s gonna hear it. And the way this place works, everyone is gonna read it in the papers, so I don’t care. I just want to answer your questions and then I want you to leave me _alone_. I’m only doing this because—”

She took a deep breath. Forced herself to breathe more slowly. “Because Elizabeth Webber told me not reporting it as soon as possible was a big regret for her, and I guess—I guess I don’t wanna look back and wish I had done it better.

“So I’m gonna tell you what I remember and then I’ll try to answer any of your questions. But after that, I don’t want to deal with it again, okay?”

“Okay.” Kelsey leaned back and looked at Taggert before looking at Brooke’s father, who hadn’t taken a seat yet. “So, let’s get started.”

**Harborview Towers: Hallway**

Elizabeth managed a smile for Max who knocked lightly on the door before opening it and announcing her. Sonny was standing by his minibar, a bourbon in his hand. He glanced at her briefly before taking a sip and looking back at the collection of bottles and glasses.

“Hey. I’m—I hope it’s okay I stopped by. Max said Courtney wasn’t here, so—”

“I haven’t seen Jason since this morning,” Sonny told her. He finished his drink, then poured another. “You want anything?”

“No.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I stopped by his place and called him, but he didn’t pick up.” She shifted from one foot to another, feeling uncomfortable. Sonny wasn’t exactly being all that welcoming, and it was a stark shift in how he had treated her since Carly’s kidnapping.

She might as well not even be in the room. He’d treated her this way last year, just before he faked his death and the lying began.

“Well, can you blame him?” Sonny shrugged. “He tries to look out for you, feels bad about not telling you, and you rip his head off when he tries to be honest?” He snorted, took another drink. “I mean, you _want_ honesty, don’t you, Elizabeth? Isn’t that what that crap was about last year?”

She blinked at him, took a step back. “I—yes. It’s—” She took a deep breath. “That’s why I’m looking for him. I need to talk to him. To explain—”

“To explain why you threw him out after everything he’s done for you this last month?” Sonny demanded. He looked at her again and she frowned at him. She didn’t recognize that strange light in his eyes. “I told him to stay out of it. To lie to you. Looks like I was right. You know what your problem is, Elizabeth?”

She folded her arms and arched a brow. “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“You’re just a kid. That’s the problem.” He threw back the rest of his drink. Poured another. And this time, his hand trembled slightly. “You run from your problems. As fast as you can. As soon as things get hard, you run away.”

“That’s not true—”

“Oh, you want credit because you stuck with Lucky Spencer until he slept with your sister?” Sonny sneered. “You were punishing yourself. For whatever the hell you did to Jason that sent him out of town last year.”

“Last year—” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Sonny, Jason left in 2001. Two years ago. He’s been back a year.” Her ire fading, she stepped forward. “Are you…okay?”

“What?” He blinked at her. Cleared his throat. “What?”

“Jason came home last year,” Elizabeth said gently. “After he thought Carly had died in that car accident. He came home and he almost married Courtney.”

“I—” Sonny swallowed hard. Shook his head. “I know that. Why are you—” He looked around the room, looked down at the glass in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s sit down.” Elizabeth took him by the elbow and led him to the sofa where they both sat down. She was not at all comforted by the fact that Sonny followed her. “I know you had some…when Carly was gone, you—”

“Went crazy,” Sonny muttered, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes. “I thought I was talking to Lily. And then I was—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” He set the bourbon glass on the table. “I should stop drinking. It makes it worse. I lose track of time.” He met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I had no right to talk to you like that.”

“I know that I hurt Jason,” Elizabeth said carefully. “And I know you’re protective of him. He’s not answering my calls which tells me how much I hurt him. He’s almost smothered me since I got sick. But he hurt me, too, Sonny.”

“I know.” Sonny took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was—you know I think the world of you. I don’t—you’re not—_Damn it_.”

“Hey.” Elizabeth touched his elbow. “Have you talked to someone—”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” Sonny retorted. He shook her hand off and got to his feet. “I know better than to drink. That’s all. It’s not good for me. It just brings back a lot of stuff and I lose track of time.”

She bit back a protest. “Okay. Okay.” She stood up. “Well, I need to find him. So, if you see him, please let him know.”

“I’m really sorry, Elizabeth.” Sonny followed her to the door. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay, Sonny. I’ll talk to you later.”

She managed to extract herself from the penthouse, then offered a few words to Max before getting on the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed Bobbie’s number on her speed dial.

**The Cellar: Office**

“Mama?” Carly set her contracts aside and struggled to stand up when her mother appeared in the doorway of her office. “I didn’t know you were coming by—”

Bobbie kissed her cheek and let her daughter lead her to the sofa. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but I got a call from Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?” Carly bit her lip. “Oh, man, did Jason finally tell her?”

“What?” Bobbie shook her head. “Tell her what? No, she called—” She hesitated. “Though that might explain why she was at Sonny’s if she’s trying to find Jason.” She’d track that story down later. Right now, there was something more important to worry about. “She said she was talking to Sonny and he forgot where he was. Or what year it was.”

Carly sighed, leaned back against the sofa, and rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. That’s…that’s not the first time. He had the breakdown while I was gone, and then my first day home, he thought it was 1999 and demanded to know why I was in his house. He couldn’t remember how old Brooke Lynn Ashton was. Did Elizabeth tell you any details?”

“Just that he thought it was last year and that Jason hadn’t come home yet. She said she was able to bring him back around, but—” Bobbie clenched her hands in her lap. “Are you telling me that Sonny is regularly losing track of time and place?”

“Not _regularly_. Just…not…” Carly wrinkled her nose, defensive now. “I know what you’re going to say, Mama. I know you wanted him to get help after the breakdown. I thought maybe he would, but he changed his mind. And I guess I get it. I mean, it’s not the first time it’s happened, and me and Jason are always able to talk him out of it. He’s just stressed because of the kidnapping and Ric’s case—” She shook her head. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bobbie repeated. “You know, Jason drove himself into the ground because he had to handle everything himself. Keeping the PCPD from arresting him, looking for you, trying to keep Elizabeth alive. And worry for Jason kept Elizabeth in that damn house long enough for Ric to attack her and drug her more. You were held hostage in a dark, cement panic room for a week. Why the hell is it your or Jason’s job to keep Sonny sane?”

“Because he’s my husband. He’s our family,” Carly snapped. She pulled herself to her feet, her hand braced over her belly. “And we’ve _always_ kept him safe.”

“Whatever he said to Elizabeth today had her rattled enough to call me, worried about Sonny, worried about you and Jason.” Bobbie stood, planting her hands on her hips. “Tell me, Carly. When Sonny has these nervous breakdowns, have you ever feared for your safety?”

When her daughter looked away, didn’t answer, Bobbie nodded. “It’s one thing for you and Jason to sign on to be his nursemaids. But you are raising children with him. Elizabeth is planning a future with Jason. Do your children deserve this life? Does Elizabeth?”

Carly rolled her eyes. “Spare me your concern about precious Elizabeth. She’ll be just—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “When exactly did you get so damned worried about Elizabeth Webber?”

“Because she’s part of my family, too,” Bobbie snapped. “And don’t give me that look, Caroline. She risked her life to save you—”

“She risked her life because she’s obsessed with Jason,” Carly retorted, but her shoulders hunched. “And maybe some of that was about me—”

“I will _not_ let you belittle what she did. How—with nearly her _last_ breath—she found the button that set you free.” Bobbie stabbed a finger at Carly. “You like having Jason to yourself because he’s there at your beck and call to save Sonny. To keep him sane. That’s why you wanted him to be with Courtney. Because you knew he’d never go far. It is not fair to ask that Jason keep saving Sonny. One day, that man is going to have to save himself and stop depending on the rest of us to carry the weight.”

And with that, Bobbie stormed out.

**Kelly** **’s: Lucky’s Room**

Kelsey sighed in relief as she dumped a pile of folders on Lucky’s battered desk and turned to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He opened the paper bag he’d brought up from the diner downstairs and started unpacking the Styrofoam containers on the table tucked into the corner. “We both have to work. There’s no reason we can’t do it together.” Lucky managed a weak grin. “Second date, right?”

A laugh escaped her lips as she rubbed her temples. “This has been the worst day, I swear. Did you read Brooke Lynn’s statement yet?”

“Not yet,” Lucky admitted. “Taggert just got us copies before I signed out for the day.” He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down. “But it must have been hard to sit through.”

“She says she won’t sit for another interview.” Kelsey sat down and unpacked the burger she’d ordered, then stared at it. “She only talked to us at all because Elizabeth Webber said it was her biggest regret.”

Lucky frowned at her. Shook his head. “I don’t—”

“Ned asked Elizabeth to talk to Brooke. And I guess Elizabeth said something about not reporting right away, and how it made it harder to get Tom Baker when he became a suspect.” Kelsey studied him for a long moment. “It was smart of her dad to go out and try to find someone who could help her. Support her. Elizabeth told Ned Taggert could be trusted and had been kind to her, so…we benefited from that.”

“Yeah.” Lucky shifted in his seat. “Yeah, Taggert didn’t like me much back then, but he always liked Elizabeth. Garcia didn’t do much with her case, but every time Elizabeth came to Taggert with some—” He squeezed his eyes shut.

Kelsey reached over to cover his hand with hers. “Hey. Something else coming back?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. She didn’t remember a lot at first. But details came back. Just small ones. He smelled like soap and he’d said something to her—I don’t—” Lucky grimaced. “I can’t remember all of it yet. But I will. Anyway, every time, Taggert sat down. Wrote it up. Had her look at mugshots. He knew it was a long shot, but he always took the time for her.”

“I can tell this matters to him.” Kelsey cut her burger into quarters, hoping she could eat at least something. “He was kind to her, but Brooke didn’t remember a lot. Her details are similar to the attacks from this year. She remembered handcuffs and that he smelled her hair. He also said something to her. She thinks it was just him telling her to be quiet. Then beat her when it was over.”

Her stomach rolled. “They think they might be able to get DNA, though. He didn’t wear a condom.”

“Risky or dumb?” Lucky asked.

“It probably means his DNA isn’t in the system, or if it is, it’s never been attached to a name.” Kelsey sighed. “She just—I remember the girl we met last week. She was so _vibrant_. And today—it’s like night and day. This guy—men who do this—they steal something that we can never give them back, you know? It doesn’t matter if we find this guy. We can’t ever make it right.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Lucky nodded towards the files. “Do you think she gave us anything we can use?”

“Taggert is trying to get the other three victims to do a follow up, but they’ve refused. The press coverage—they don’t have a lot of faith anything can be done.”

“Maybe if the forensics come back and give us a link, they’ll reconsider.” Lucky shoved his dinner, mostly untouched, aside. “But the hair thing. That’s interesting.”

“Smelling her hair? Maybe. They’re all brunettes. Maybe he’s looking for something specific. Scott managed to convince the city council to give the PCPD emergency funding to cover overtime and testing. You guys can now carpet the park with officers and test every single kit in storage.”

“I guess that’s something.” Lucky grimaced. “We’re not really eating, are we?”

“No. I guess we should get back to work. I want to read over her statement again, and there’s a couple of cases I’m going to court for in the morning. I’ll be relieved when Scott can manage to get a few more ADAs in my office.” She twisted to look at the stack of files on his desk. “It’s going to be a long night. Maybe I should just head home—”

“No, hey—” Lucky stood, grabbed the files, then set them down. “We’ll go through them together. I probably worked some of them.”

“Well, I’ve got three vandalism cases, one simple assault from a bar fight, and two burglaries—all of which are guilty pleas, so at least that’s more cheerful than a serial rapist.” She reached for her briefcase with her stationery and notebooks. “Let’s get started.”

**Condo: Hallway**

After looking for Jason in a few other places, Elizabeth finally gave up and returned home—only to find Jason sitting outside her door, his back against the wall with his legs stretched out. When he saw her, he got to his feet.

“I know you said not to come back—”

“I’m glad you’re here—” she said at the same time, throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her slightly in the air as she kissed him hard. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m _sorry_.”

“You never _ever_—” He tightened his arms around her torso, holding her against his chest. “I’m sorry. I can’t stand how much I hurt you—”

“It’s not—” She sighed and waited for him to release her. When she was back on her feet, she unlocked her door and invited him in. “I’m _not_ sorry I was angry about what happened. That you not only took the letter, read it, and then went to…see him…I didn’t want you to do that.”

She dumped her purse on the table and turned to face him, taking in the fact he was wearing his shirt from the night before, wrinkled now. He had a day’s growth of stubble lining his jaw and his eyes were rimmed with red. She bit her lip. “Have you slept?”

“I went to the warehouse. I packed coffee until Sonny sent me to the office. Then Bernie sent me home.” Jason shook his head. “I went for a ride. I didn’t even know you were calling me, but—I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa where he sat down and she curled up against him. “I saw Gail today and she…helped me understand what happened last night.”

“I did that—I made you—”

“Not—” She laced her fingers through his. She’d always liked the way their hands fit together, her much smaller fingers against his larger ones. “Thank you for calling Monica. Part of it was a panic attack, but it was triggered by something else. It was like…” She rested her chin on his shoulder, waited until he turned his head slightly to meet her eyes. “It was like I saw that letter—and just that was enough to put me back in that moment. It was like I was there. And it was happening again. And that—” She bit her lip. “Gail said I was re-experiencing the trauma.”

He closed his eyes. “Because of me—”

“_Ric _did that to me,” Elizabeth said softly. “Ric, Tom Baker, and whoever attacked Brooke Lynn Ashton and those other girls. They created the conditions, and you just lit the match. It was always going to be something. I’m so sorry it was you.”

She bit her lip. “While I was with Gail, I started to think that I was a complete mess. That this is the wrong time for us to be trying this—that I don’t even understand my own brain, how could I ever hope to have a healthy romantic relationship right now?”

She could feel his muscles tense as he exhaled slowly. “Are you—Do you want—”

“And Gail asked me if that was _really_ why I would step back, and I realized…” She drew back slightly. “I guess I realized that’s usually what I do when it comes to you. When it gets hard, I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. With Lucky, with Ric, I dug in. I stayed.”

Jason frowned, shifting on the sofa, turning slightly to face her more fully. “Why?”

“Because you’re not like them. You see me. You’ve _always_ seen me, and I think…” Her throat burned as she forced out the words. “I think I’m afraid one day you’ll see that I don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve…” Jason shook his head. “You don’t—deserve what?”

“My parents. They left. As soon as they could. And even my grandmother, as much as she loved me, I knew she was disappointed in me. Lucky left. He never came back. And you left. Everyone leaves. And after that first time, Jason, when you left and I was crying, begging you to stay, I knew it would happen again. So, I left first. I sent you away when you offered me the world, and I walked out on you last year—”

He took her hand in his, shaking his head. “That’s—what did you say in the hospital? About telling yourself stories that make you out to be the bad guy?”

“Yeah, but that’s what _happened_—”

“Elizabeth, you—” He sat up straight and took a deep breath. “You have to _stop_ taking on the weight of the world. You threw me out last night because I didn’t listen to you. You knew you weren’t ready to deal with Tom Baker or his letter, and I decided what _I_ needed was more important. I was selfish. You had every right to be angry at me, but now we’re here and you’re telling me that you don’t deserve me, and I just—” He shook his head. “_I__’m_ supposed to be the one apologizing here.”

“I—” She bit her lip. “I guess. But—”

“When I left that first time—after I got shot. I told you that I had to go.” Jason tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her jawline. “The thing is you were the _only_ reason I would have stayed. If you hadn’t left first, I don’t know if I could have gone through with it. But I knew Carly was on the warpath and she was determined to make my life a living hell. I had to get away from her. I had to force her to fix her own problems. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

Something deep inside of her loosened and she managed a smile. “Really?”

“And when I—how did you put it?—offered you the world—” Jason shook his head. “You’re making it sound like I got down on one knee and begged you to leave with me. You didn’t spit in my face, Elizabeth. I knew how hard all of that was for you. I asked you to leave, and when you asked me if it meant with me, and I didn’t—” He grimaced. “I didn’t say the right words. I knew it even as I was saying them. I told you that it didn’t have to be with me. Just as long as you were safe.”

She closed her eyes. “I didn’t—I forgot—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “You’re right. I have to—I need to be kinder to myself. Gail tells me that all the time. And you do, too. It’s just hard. I’m trying.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about the letter.”

“I’m still not ready to know what he said or what happened when you saw him.” She leaned back against him and he put an arm around her. “Will you stay here tonight? I didn’t sleep last night. And I don’t want to be alone.”

“I missed you.” His fingers slid through her hair. “We’re going to get this right this time, Elizabeth. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	10. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! Somehow this chapter never got posted!

The first and final scenes have a trigger warning. The final scene also features music from [Angel](https://open.spotify.com/track/6a12yrkah2Fs6FQ8QCdFfP?si=0_dlkoGuQYCQVhJby_cAHQ) (Sarah McLachlan)

* * *

_Don't be mad if I cry_  
_It just hurts so bad sometimes_  
_Cause everyday it's sinking in_  
_And I have to say goodbye all over again_  
_You know I bet it feels good to have the weight of this world_  
_Off your shoulders now_  
_I'm dreaming of the day when I'm finally there with you_  
\- Save a Place for Me, Matthew West

* * *

_Saturday, July 19, 2003_

**Gatehouse: Living Room**

Telling her story, going through every detail—

It hadn’t helped.

Brooke was curled up in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a thick cardigan, her legs drawn up under her chin. She had begged her parents to leave her alone. For just a few hours. To just give her some space. Since the moment she’d woken up in that terrible haze of pain in the hospital, she hadn’t been left alone for more than five minutes.

Everyone was staring at her. They knew. They _all_ knew and they all probably thought it was her fault. Maybe she had smiled at the wrong guy, worn the wrong outfit…hadn’t she walked through the park late at night? In the dark?

Didn’t she have it coming?

She could still see her mother’s worried face, her father’s angry expression—they’d both tried to hide it, both had plastered fake smiles across their face. But then one of them would say something to set the other off, and then they’d be screaming at one another.

She couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t _want_ to deal with it. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Everything hurt. Her jaw, her chest…

Between her legs.

She didn’t even know she was crying until the tears soaked through her sweater and hit her skin. Oh, God. It was never going to end. What did Elizabeth Webber say? It would get better one day?

Why couldn’t one day be today? Why couldn’t it all go away _now_?

She just wanted to sleep. She wanted to sink into dreams, where nothing but darkness waited but even that hadn’t kept out of the terror and pain. She just wanted it over.

There was a hesitant knock on the front door that Brooke nearly ignored, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, and maybe it was Monica up at the main house. Monica had been kind, but not pushy. Probably had known what to do from listening to Elizabeth Webber, Brooke thought darkly as she struggled to her feet and headed for the door.

But it wasn’t her aunt at the door. It was her uncle, his girlfriend, and…Lucas. The trio of them looked worried, uncomfortable, nervous.

Doing the good Samaritan duty, Brooke thought but stepped back to let them in. “You come to gawk at the freak show?” she demanded, her voice laced with bitterness.

“No.” Dillon shoved his hands in his pockets, Georgie hovering just behind his shoulder while Lucas didn’t move far from the threshold. “We just—we wanted to wait a few days before we…”

“Came to visit?” Brooke demanded. She lifted her chin and sneered. “Well, take a look. Here’s the damaged victim. You’re no different than anyone else in the hospital. Another sad little girl raped in—” She broke off, bile rising in her throat as she turned away.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have all come,” Georgie murmured to Dillon. “Why don’t Lucas and I go? You can—”

“No, no.” Brooke turned back to them, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your kindness. I don’t _need_ any of you. So just get out—”

“We’re going. Lucas—” Georgie touched her cousin’s shoulder, but Lucas shook his head.

“You and Dillon go, I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Dillon hesitated another moment, before swallowing and nodding. “I just want to do what you need me to do, Brooke. So, I’m going. I’m sorry.” He took Georgie’s hand and they left.

“You can go to,” Brooke muttered as she turned her back on Lucas and curled back up on the sofa. “You think because we had five minutes of being friends that I need you?”

“No,” Lucas said. He perched on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I needed to say I was sorry. That I feel like this is my fault. I invited you. And you only left because we were—”

“Oh, God!” Brooke exploded. She shifted and shoved him back, sending Lucas tumbling off the table to the floor. “You came here because _you_ feel guilty! Not one of you actually gives a damn about _me_! No one does! You didn’t even notice I was gone! If you had, if you’d come even five minutes earlier—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I want you to get out.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas repeated. He got to his feet and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I came here to make myself feel better and that was selfish. If it makes you feel better to hit me, you—”

“Nothing makes it better!” she cried. She pushed him again, and he fell back a step. “_Nothing_ is ever going to make it go away or not have happened. Everyone knows. It’s all they can think when they see me, do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“No,” he admitted. “Brooke—”

“Get out.”

And this time, Lucas listened though he waited another moment before he left, closing the door gently behind him.

Trembling, Brooke pressed her hands to her eyes. God. It all hurt, and she just wanted to sleep. To make it go away for a few hours. She stumbled into the bathroom and saw the bottle of pain medication that Tony Jones had sent home for her. Hadn’t he said one of the side effects was fatigue?

If she could…could just close her eyes, if she could just sink into the darkness…maybe the pills could keep the demons from chasing her in her dreams, making her wake up in a cold sweat, still lying on her back in the park…

Looking into his face…

Because, oh, God.

She knew that face.

It had to go away.

She had to _make_ it go away.

**Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth scowled as she stepped back inside the apartment, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot as she stared down at the paper. “You know, maybe I should have sued the PCPD.” She handed it to Jason who was sipping his coffee at the table by the window. “Clearly they didn’t get the point before.”

Jason scanned the headline. “It’s another story about the attacks in the park.” He cleared his throat, set it on the table. “I thought that was leaked a few days ago…when Ned’s daughter was attacked.” He shifted in his seat.

“Yeah, the dates of the attacks but not the details.” She flicked the paper. “How did they not know it might be the same guy?” She picked up the paper and scanned it again. “It looks like they never even bothered to send out the rape kits after the first two. I can’t believe they’re still pulling the same crap they did on my case.”

Jason furrowed his brows, set his mug on the table, and leaned forward. “I thought you said they didn’t go forward because Baker denied making the confession.”

“Yeah, well…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “They said they couldn’t send my rape kit for testing without a suspect, and then when…after he was arrested, they finally did. Or at least that’s what Mac told me when I called after Taggert closed my case. They said it came back inconclusive. I never asked anything else. I didn’t want to know anything else. I mean, Baker confessed. He was going to prison for what he did to Emily.” She sighed and leaned back. “It just seemed insane to me then that they would refuse to test without a suspect. How do you even get a suspect if you don’t find the DNA? And how could that still be the policy all these years later?”

She got to her feet and wandered back into the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea. “I guess it’s a good sign that I can read that story and talk about my case without freaking out.”

“Yeah.” Jason stared down at the paper she’d left behind and wondered. If Baker hadn’t done it, if those kits had never been processed…what if they were now and came back to link with Elizabeth’s case?

What if Tom Baker hadn’t been lying and this scumbag was still active, nearly six years later? He glanced at her, took a deep breath. He needed to think about this. He didn’t want those other girls going through what Elizabeth had, but he didn’t exactly trust the Port Charles Police Department to take what he might know seriously or not to throw him in jail for meeting with Baker.

And Elizabeth had made it clear that she did not want to know the contents of Baker’s letter or the visit. Jason had already hurt her once putting himself first; he wasn’t going to do it again. But maybe he could still do something that would encourage the police to look into their cold files.

“So, what’s your plan today?” Elizabeth asked, settling across from him with a smile on her lips, looking brighter and happier than she’d looked in days. He put away the dark thoughts and returned the smile.

“Well, I was thinking of taking a ride up through the foothills,” Jason said. He arched a brow. “You know anyone who might want to join me?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Great. I just have to make a call before we go.”

**Kelly’s: Courtyard**

“Lois,” Jax said, his voice taking on a tone even Ned knew would piss off his ex-wife. “Ned isn’t suggesting that suing the PCPD is going to make Brooke’s situation better—”

“Going after people and making them pay—that’s all he ever knows how to do,” Lois snapped, slapping her hand over the newspaper and glaring at Ned. “If he had been a better father, a better husband, we wouldn’t be in this position—”

“And if you hadn’t expected me to change into a completely different man after we got married the second time,” Ned said, through clenched teeth, “we wouldn’t be here. You keep making me pay for something I can’t change—”

“You don’t _want_ to change,” Lois snarled. She leaned forward, her teeth bared. “If you had paid one ounce of attention to _our_ daughter instead of the new one, then maybe Brooke wouldn’t have been alone in that park—”

“It was your bright idea to send her here. You told me I had to set boundaries. I took away her phone. I made her get a job. She was making friends—” Ned threw up his hands. “You didn’t want her in New York. You made that clear. All I want to do is make sure what happened to Brooke never happens again—”

Olivia, still silent, cleared her throat. “I think Lois has a point, Ned—”

“Oh, great. Here comes the reasonable, rational Olivia to bail him out again. You know what, Liv?” Lois demanded as she got to her feet and shoved her purse strap over her shoulder. “You understand him so much, you should marry him.”

She stomped out of the courtyard. With a sigh, Jax followed.

“All she does is yell at you,” Ned said, dryly. “Why exactly are you friends again?”

Olivia sighed and shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. Her ma is my godmother, my ma is her godmother. We’re god sisters. Or so I’ve been told my whole life.” She shifted, uncomfortable. “Listen, you know Lois. She’s a pitbull. Her baby has been hurt and she can’t make it go away. I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing? Going after anyone who might be held accountable because it’s all you can do?”

“I’m not wrong,” Ned insisted. He tapped the headline. “Someone has to pay for this asinine decision. Not running rape kits? Not warning the women of this city that a serial rapist was on the loose? This isn’t even the first time this summer that the PCPD has nearly gotten a woman killed. They leaked a story that ended up with a woman getting attacked by her husband—” He shook his head. “That department is a cesspool.”

“I get you, but it looks like everyone already knows that. It’s in the papers.” Olivia shrugged. “How does suing them change anything? That’s your answer because you’re a businessman, but it’s not going to do anything.”

“Maybe. It’ll make_ me_ feel better,” Ned muttered. He sighed. “But that’s not the point, is it? Going after the papers for leaking her name, after the police for screwing up—it’s not going to change anything. I can’t turn back time.”

“You should go home and be with your kid. Brooke may want alone time, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be in the house, ready if she needs you.” Olivia sighed. “I’m sure Lois is already on her way there and I bet it’d be nice if the two of you didn’t yell and scream with Brooke in the room.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Floyd slapped the _Herald_ down on Mac’s desk. “Who the hell is telling these reporters all of this?” he demanded with a growl.

Taggert leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, and crossed his ankles. “I did.”

The mayor glared at him. “Under whose authority? I never agreed to release any more details—”

“You didn’t agree to release _any_ details at all,” Mac interrupted with some heat. He got to his feet and leaned over his desk, planting his hands on the desk. “That’s what got us into this damn mess—you trying to protect your election—”

He looked at Vinnie, slouched next to Taggert. “And why the hell didn’t you bring this to my desk? Once you had a third attack in the same location with same type of victim—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vinnie retorted, not moving a muscle. “Maybe it’s because up until five minutes ago, I was investigating every goddamn crime in this city while everyone else was chasing after Corinthos and Morgan. I missed it. You think that makes me _happy_?”

“First your guy Capelli nearly gets Elizabeth Webber killed, and now this incompetent jackass misses the mark on—”

“_You_ told us not to release the story,” Taggert interrupted. He looked at Mac. “I came to you with this link before the granddaughter of this town’s most prominent family was brutally attacked and raped. I begged you. But you refused.” He shoved himself to his feet. “You interfere with this case again, Floyd, and I will walk. I’ll turn in my badge, I’ll walk out of this building and straight over to Jessica Mitchell to give her an exclusive interview—”

“I’ll see that you never work in law enforcement again,” Floyd retorted, but Taggert only smirked.

“You’ll have already lost the election in a scandal. I’m not worried about your leverage—”

“Let’s just—” Mac took a deep breath. He stood up and held his hands out. “Let’s just take a deep breath here. We missed this. Departmental policy, lack of officers, whatever the reason. We’re not going to get anywhere by screaming at each other.” He looked at Vinnie. “You should have said you were overworked, but I’m not recommending any discipline be taken. Your case load has been cut in half and you’ve been reassigned. I think that should satisfy everyone.”

Vinnie scowled. “I swear if he tries to throw me under the bus about these damn cases—”

“The last thing the mayor wants to do with the deadline for candidates to declare themselves so close is talk more about how the PCPD under his care screwed up cases,” Mac said, looking pointedly at Floyd who glowered back at him. “From now on, you bring your complaints to me, Floyd. You don’t talk to my men.” He hesitated. “And you don’t give orders on cases. Ever again.”

Something passed between the two men that Taggert didn’t quite understand. He frowned—there was something there he didn’t know. But for now, Mac was on his side and he wasn’t going to question it. “Great. Glad we understand. You go run Port Charles, Floyd. Let me catch this sick son of a bitch.”

“Whatever you have to do,” Floyd said, his jaw clenched. “Any test. Any budget request. The city council has declared a public emergency. Get this case solved and out of the newspapers.” He stormed out of the office.

“What a dick,” Vinnie muttered as he followed a few minutes later.

Left alone, Taggert looked at Mac with a sigh. “We’ve got a problem, Mac. Brooke Lynn Ashton’s statement…” He grimaced. “I don’t think…I don’t think this guy just started this year.”

“Oh. Hell.” Mac sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands. “Why? I haven’t read the statement yet.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t—I can’t stop thinking about Maxie and Georgie being there. How it might have been one of them—” He exhaled slowly. “What makes you think there are other cases besides the four we have?”

“The location,” Taggert admitted. “The victim profile. And the fact that…” He paused. “Brooke said her attacker grabbed her from behind, dragged her back into the bushes and handcuffed her. He only said one thing to her.” His stomach clenched. “He said ‘not a word.’” He saw the realization slowly dawn on Mac’s face. “You remember the case.”

“I—” Mac sat back. “Of course. It ended up—it was a big trial.” He met Taggert’s eyes. “But we got that guy. We closed that case. Baker confessed, even if we couldn’t prove it.”

“Maybe. Maybe there’s something we don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that four young women with dark hair have been attacked at fountains in the park, Mac. The first one we know about is in February.” He shook his head. “Maybe Baker talked to someone in prison who got inspired. Maybe he had an accomplice.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “God, I wish her rape kit had come back positive for something. Maybe if we ran it again—” He looked at Mac. “Can I pull her case out of cold storage?”

“I—” Mac exhaled slowly. “Are you sure you want to drag it up? I mean, I understand why you think it might be connected, but if you pull it out and it turns out it’s not related—I think this department has put that woman through enough.” He shook his head. “After nearly dying, she’s still got the case against Lansing to deal with.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I just—I can’t forget the way she looked when I told her we had to close the case.” Taggert rubbed the back of his neck. “What about looking for other priors? Our cases prior to 2001 haven’t been put on computer yet. Can I send the rookies down to look at cold storage? You’re right. I don’t want to put Elizabeth through opening her case again unless I have something better than a phrase.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” Mac nodded. “I hope we don’t find anything, but I agree with you that it’s better safe than sorry. Ah, Scott Baldwin already requested a copy of our open files. Maybe you can check with him to see if he’s already done the legwork.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

Taggert returned to his desk and stared down at his notes, tapping his fingers. He knew he’d just been told to leave the Webber case alone, but something about Mac’s expression troubled him. Maybe there was something he didn’t know. And hell, if _he_ didn’t tell the rookies to leave her case alone, they would pull it from cold storage on their own.

He just wanted one more look at the file. He wanted to be sure that the man who had attacked Elizabeth _was_ Tom Baker. After the last few weeks, he owed her that much.

He flipped through the phone messages that had been left on his desk during the meeting. He frowned when he came to the last one, left just ten minutes earlier. From the hot line — an anonymous caller suggesting that the PCPD should link into cold cases of rapes in the park.

He stared at it, then exhaled slowly. Maybe a victim who didn’t want to come forward officially. It just convinced him he was right to send the rookies to storage. And if, for what reason, they didn’t pull Elizabeth Webber’s file, he would.

**Condo: Parking Garage**

Jason pulled the bike into the parking spot next to her battered Nissan and switched off the engine. Elizabeth was still laughing as she swung her leg over the back of the bike and pulled off her helmet. “That was even better than I remembered,” she said as he parked the bike and set her helmet on the back. She leaned up to kiss him, sliding her fingers through his hair.

“I’m glad you had fun. You’re not mad because I wouldn’t let you drive?” he asked when they parted. Jason rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip.

“No. Monica barely lets me take my own car around town. I’m not ready to drive your bike on those cliff roads.” Elizabeth smirked. “I will be, before you know it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll be ready to do a lot of things soon.” She rose on her toes and kissed him again, pressing herself tightly against him.

He groaned and pulled away from her. “That’s not fair.”

She giggled, then reached for her purse where he’d stowed it in one of the side compartments. She dug out her phone and went through her messages. A few voice mails—Bobbie, Emily, even Nikolas—but her final one, left almost an hour ago, had her frowning.

“Brooke Lynn Ashton called me.”

Jason leaned back against the bike. “You think she wants to talk again?”

“I hope so.” Elizabeth pressed play and put the phone against her ear.

_The storm keeps on twisting_   
_Keep on building the lies_

“Elizabeth…” Brooke’s voice sounded tired, even slightly slurred. “I just…I wanted to ask you why it never stops. Why can’t I close my eyes? Why doesn’t he ever go away.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth murmured, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I missed—”

_That you make up for all that you lack_   
_It don't make no difference_

“He’s always there. When I’m awake. When I’m asleep. I wish I had never—why did I wake up—I didn’t feel anything before I...it was better when I didn’t know. I wish I didn’t know. I wish no one knew. But they all…do…they all stare at me…they’re all sorry for me…the sad little girl…who…got…and…then I remembered…oh, God…I remembered what he did to me…I remembered…”

_Escape one last time_   
_It's easier to believe in this sweet madness_

Brooke’s voice faded away and then the message ended. Elizabeth took a deep breath and stared at her phone for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what she’d heard.

_Oh, this glorious sadness  
That brings me to my knees_

“Elizabeth—”

“Do you have Ned’s number?” she demanded. She grimaced, looking through her contacts. “I think someone should check on her. I just—I have—” She looked at Jason. “I have this terrible feeling, Jason.”

He took out his own phone, glanced through his contacts, and grimaced. “No. But Emily or Monica will have it—let me call them.”

_In the arms of the angel_   
_Fly away from here_

**Gatehouse: Entrance**

Ned pulled into the driveway just behind Lois and got out of his car. but it was almost a minute before his ex-wife stepped out of hers. When she did, she stopped at the garage door, and they stared at one another for a long moment, the sounds of the trees rustling around them.

_From this dark, cold hotel room_

“I know you love Brooke,” Lois said quietly, her face withdrawn. “I know you feel as helpless as I do. It’s easier to yell at you. To make this your fault.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine. I just—” Tears slid down her cheeks, and despite all the time and the anger that had created that gulf—it still decimated Ned to see this strong woman break.

“I don’t know what to _do_,” she confessed, her voice breaking into a sob.

_And the endlessness that you fear_

“I know.” Ned rounded the car and for the first time since she’d arrived, he drew her into a hug. “We’re just stumbling in the dark, hoping we’ll figure it out. And we can scream and yell at each other, but we have to stop around Brooke. We have to put her first.” He shook his head. “We have to be people she can depend on.” He drew away and tucked her hair behind her ears before gently kissing her forehead. “We’re better than this, Lois.”

_You are pulled from the wreckage_

“You’re right.” Lois managed a smile for him. “Let’s go in and check on her. I know she wanted some time alone, but—”

“I want to be near if she needs us,” Ned finished. His phone rang. He tugged it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and looked at the caller id screen. “It’s Elizabeth Webber,” he murmured with a frown.

“She’s the one that tried to talk to Brooke?” Lois asked. She patted his chest. “You take that. I’ll go in and check on my baby.” She disappeared up the front walk while Ned flipped open his phone.

_Of your silent reverie_

“Elizabeth?” Ned greeted. “Hello—”

“I’m sorry to bother you, and it’s probably nothing. I had my phone turned off for a while and Brooke called me about an hour ago. She sounded…tired. And really upset.” He could hear her voice shaking as his heart dropped down into his stomach.

“An hour ago?” Ned repeated.

“She trailed off and the message just ended—I’m afraid—”

From inside the house, he heard a blood-curdling scream. His phone dropped to the ground as Ned ran.

_You're in the arms of the angel_

He took the steps two at a time, the railing shaking under his weight as he all but flew up to the second floor and down the hall where Lois’s screams had been replaced by sobbing, deep heart-rending cries, repeating Brooke’s name over and over again.

He found her sitting on Brooke’s bed, their daughter in her arms as Lois rocked back and forth. Brooke’s eyes were closed, and her arms were lying limply at her side.

Lifeless.

_May you find some comfort here_

“Wake up, baby, wake up—”

On the ground, next to Brooke’s bed, a phone receiver sat, the dial tone relentless and jarring, a bottle of prescription pills next to it.

Empty.

_You're in the arms of the angel_

Almost in a daze, Ned gently hung up the phone, then picked it up to dial 911, not taking his eyes off his daughter. Cradling the receiver between his shoulder and face, he reached out a hand to touch her cheek and a shudder ripped through his body.

She was cold.

They were too late.

_May you find some comfort here_


	11. Chapter Thirty

_Should've stayed, were there signs I ignored?_  
_Can I help you not to hurt anymore?_  
_We saw brilliance when the world was asleep_  
_There are things that we can have but can't keep_  
\- One More Light, Linkin Park

* * *

_Saturday July 19, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Taggert rubbed his eyes and peered over the case report for maybe the third time—he remembered that Lucky had come to him, concerned about Vinnie’s interview with the victim and now, reading over the notes Vinnie had made for the first victim—

A sour feeling rolled in his gut as Taggert read over the conclusions — _victim wearing low cut dress, alone in park, no good reason to be there, says she has no enemies but has had a lot of boyfriends_. Christ, this read like an interview from a workshop he’d attended a few years earlier, one in which something like this had been given as an example of what _not_ to do.

“Taggert.”

He glanced up to find the commissioner standing by his desk, his dark eyes sober and his features drawn tight. Taggert narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet. “Mac?”

“We just had a call from dispatch. An ambulance just rushed Brooke Lynn Ashton to the hospital.” His skin was nearly gray as he continued. “An overdose.”

“An over—” A heavy weight crashed down on his chest as Taggert struggled to take his next breath. His voice raspy, he asked, “Did they—”

“Dispatch said they took her in, but—” Mac shook his head. He closed his eyes and looked away. “It didn’t look good on the scene.”

Taggert wiped his hand over his mouth, the sourness rising into his throat, burning it as he forced himself to continue. “Was it—was it deliberate?”

“We don’t know. I sent a crime scene unit to the house.” Mac hesitated. “I thought about going to the hospital, but I’m the last person anyone in that family wants to see. I should—I should do this for the PCPD, represent them, but—” He met Taggert’s eyes. “I can’t ever forgive myself for putting my job above the people of this city. I should have told Floyd to go to hell and released that warning.”

“I wish I could blame you for keeping quiet, but we’ve all made our mistakes. We all have our collateral damage. How much longer did Carly Corinthos stay locked behind those walls because of our tunnel vision? I knew Ric Lansing was drugging his wife, and I let her stay in that house. How many people have I sacrificed because of Sonny Corinthos?”

Taggert shook his head. “Promise me, Mac, that it’s over. That we’re done putting politics and our own priorities above the people we promised to protect.”

“The next time Floyd tries to bury something to save himself, he’ll have to take my badge with it.” Mac paused for a long moment. “I need to tell my girls. I need to tell them before they hear it from someone else. Will you—”

“I’ll go to the hospital, but those parents aren’t going to want to see me either.” He slid his notebook into his pocket. “This is it. This is the last woman this shitbag gets to destroy. We won’t be able to nail him for murder, but—”

“He killed her all the same.”

**Kelly’s: Dining Room**

When Ned’s end of the line had gone dead, Elizabeth hadn’t been able to let go of her terrible feeling. She and Jason had both tried to call everyone who might know anything, but Monica was at the hospital working and Ned’s phone just went to voice mail. Jason told her he’d head to the hospital, while Elizabeth decided to track down Bobbie.

She went to Kelly’s, hoping Bobbie might be working on the account books, but the dining room was empty between the lunch rush and dinner hour—without school in session, Kelly’s was usually dead.

Elizabeth set her purse on the counter and sighed at Lucas doing the familiar side jobs she’d performed for the better part of five years. “Hey. Is your mother around? I’ve been trying to call her—”

Lucas finished filling the last sugar canister and set it on the counter. “No, she’s out somewhere with Scott Baldwin, and we have a really crappy cell phone company.” He tipped his head. “You okay? You look upset—”

“I—I guess I’m just trying—” She bit her lip. “Have you talked to Brooke since she got out of the hospital?” She held up a finger as her phone started to ring. She frowned when she saw it was Emily. “Wait a second—Em?”

“Oh, thank God, you answered—Oh, it’s awful, Liz—Dad just called me, and I don’t even remember the last time he cried—”

“Emily, what’s going on—” Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the phone as her heart sank. “Em—”

“Brooke—Ned—Lois—they found her—and the hospital—they couldn’t—” Emily’s words were coming out haltingly amidst with sobs. “She took her pain meds, but they think she took too many—Oh, God, Liz, she’s _gone_. It was too late—”

“Emily, are you alone right now?” Elizabeth stood up, almost as if prepared to head straight to the airport and get on a plane to be with her best friend. “Em—”

“Oh, yeah. No. No, I have someone here—I’m flying home tomorrow. Oh, God, Liz.”

She spoke to her another minute, getting assurance that Emily wouldn’t be alone for the rest of the day before closing her phone and looking at Lucas who wore a grim expression. Should she tell him? Should she wait for someone else? Was it even her place?

“What is it?” he asked. “Is it Brooke? Liz, c’mon—”

“She…” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “Apparently Ned and Lois found her a little while ago—” Oh, God, _that_ was why the phone had gone dead—they must have gone to check on her— “She’d taken her pain meds and—I’m so sorry, it was too late—”

Lucas stumbled back, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not—” He shoved his hands through his hair, gripping strands of it. “We—we were there this morning. We wanted to check on her—I let her—I let her kick me out. I knew I should have stay—I didn’t want to leave her alone—”

He sank onto the ground behind the counter. Elizabeth went to him, knelt down beside him. “Hey. Hey, you couldn’t have known. Lucas—”

“I did know. I _did_. I knew how upset she was. I was the only one who really knew her at all, and I let her walk away. It’s my fault this happened. I invited her to the movies—I ignored her and didn’t realize—” His voice was panicked now, the words tumbling over themselves as they rushed out of his mouth like dominoes.

“She had a right to walk through that park,” Elizabeth said. She gripped his shoulder. “Lucas—if we had known there was a serial rapist in that park—of course she wouldn’t have walked alone.”

“She’s the only one who knew—” Lucas raised his eyes to her. Swallowed hard. “She _knew_ me. She’s the only one I told, and I’m the one she told. And now she’s gone, and she can’t ever tell her family.”

“Tell them what?” Elizabeth ignored the pain in her chest as she shifted from her seated position. “Lucas—”

“I’m gay. And I told her, and she told me she was, too, but she didn’t have a chance—”

Her heart ached for him, this brave boy holding in all those secrets and the guilt— “She told me, too, Lucas. When I went to see her. I talked to her. And she told me, too.”

He exhaled slowly, let his head fall against the wall, his eyes closed. “She thought her parents would be okay with it, but it was like—thinking it might be okay isn’t the same thing as knowing, and it’s easier to lie to yourself than be honest with everyone else—”

“I’m sorry Brooke never got the chance to come out to her parents. To her family. It’s not your fault, Lucas. But I know how it feels to think about a moment in time you’d give anything to take back. To just make a different choice.”

“If I could just stop myself from giving a damn about Maxie’s idiot boyfriend. Why did I care so much about making sure he knew he wasn’t part of the group? I should have been thinking about Brooke. It was her first night—” He took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have to go to Maxie and Georgie. Find Dillon. My mother—”

He stood up and frowned as Elizabeth struggled to stand as well. “Are you okay? I know you just got out of the hospital—”

She pressed a hand to her chest, took a deep breath, and was relieved when she felt her lungs expand. “No. I’m fine. Sometimes I can’t catch my breath—”

The bell above Kelly’s jangled as the door opened and someone Elizabeth didn’t know walked in—a boy around Lucas’s age with dark skin and kind eyes.

“Lucas. I was at the hospital—” He stopped short when he saw Elizabeth standing there and just stood, his hands awkwardly at his side.

“It’s okay.” Lucas squared his shoulders and looked at Elizabeth with a half-smile. “It’s okay. She knows. Elizabeth, this is my boyfriend, Felix DuBois. Felix, this is Elizabeth Webber, a friend of the family.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said. “You came because you heard about Brooke?”

“Yeah.” Felix closed the distance and joined them behind the counter. He touched Lucas’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“No, but I need to be for everyone else. I’m the one they depend on.” Lucas looked at his boyfriend, tears glinting in his eyes. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to go find Jason and your mother,” Elizabeth told Lucas. She kissed his cheek. “You have my number if you need anything. Felix, it was so nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Elizabeth left, but looked back through the windows when she was in the courtyard to find Lucas hugging Felix fiercely, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

**Luke’s: Bar**

For once, the three of them had been enjoying a rare day off from work—the first they’d had at the same time since they’d begun a month earlier. When the call had come, they’d been together, and later, Lucky was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure what Dante might have done if he’d been alone.

Luke’s was closed until the evening, so they’d spent the day playing poker, having a few drinks, playing pool—just relaxing for the first time in weeks. It was a good day—a day when they’d put the stress and horror of their first days on the job behind them and just remembered how good it was to be together, best friends working the same job.

Dante had just lifted a freshly opened bottle of Rolling Rock to his lips when his phone flashed. He frowned at it. “It’s my mom—she’s texting me _911 call me_. Damn it—”

He hurried to return his mother’s call as Cruz and Lucky waited, worried about what Olivia Falconieri might tell her son. The call was short, no more than thirty seconds as Dante’s face turned a sickening gray. He promised his mother he wouldn’t drive after confirming he’d been drinking and would wait for her.

Then he closed his phone and held it in the palm of his hand.

“Dante,” Cruz said. “What’s going—”

“Brooke died.” Dante stared down at the phone. “An overdose. They don’t—” He shook his head. “They don’t know if it was an accident or—”

Or if Brooke had been unable to live with the pain of what had happened to her and the media circus surrounding her. Cruz and Lucky traded looks.

He set his phone on the table and lurched from the table where they’d been playing a hand of poker. He went to the bar and took down a bottle of Jim Beam, pouring himself a shot.

“It’s my fault,” Dante said. “I knew. We _all_ knew there was a rapist out there and we shut our mouths and toed the line. And then I leaked the damn story—and they found her—”

“Someone else leaked Brooke’s name to take the heat off of them,” Lucky interrupted. He took the bottle from Dante, afraid his friend would just start pulling straight from it. He poured shots for himself and Cruz. “You leaked the story. The media decided to run with the name of a rape victim. Not you. You wanted to protect the public. I’m just sorry I didn’t leak it myself.”

“I should have checked on her more. Ma asked me to look out for her when Brooke moved here-”

“And our first day on the job, we got thrown a case where we all pulled double shifts,” Cruz reminded his roommate. “We’ve been on the job for a month, Dante. If we knew all the answers, we’d be in charge.” He looked at Lucky. “Right?”

“Right. And look, maybe we can’t—we can’t help Brooke anymore. That pisses me off. But the other women who were attacked—we can still help them. How many women did you already help by leaking the story?” Lucky asked. “We can do whatever is necessary to find this scumbag and make sure no one else goes through this.”

“It’s not going to be enough,” Dante muttered. He threw back another shot.

“Hey.” Lucky waited until his friend met his eyes. “When I was sixteen, I found one of my friends crawling out of the park bushes, bleeding, bruised, and—” He shook his head. “Destroyed.”

“Lu mentioned it. Elizabeth Webber? The Lansing case?” Dante grimaced. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Liz and I don’t—we’re not really close anymore. For a lot of reasons. But back then, I was one of the few people who knew. I had a front row seat to watch her put herself back together, but part of me always knew—I always _knew_ it was my fault.”

“Lucky—” Cruz began but Lucky shook his head.

“We made plans to go to a dance. And I knew—” He squeezed his eyes shut because God, these were some of the few memories of Elizabeth he’d managed to uncover in the last week. He couldn’t remember the good times, couldn’t remember loving her yet, but he could remember this—the brutal flashes of her recovery and anguish. Had _she_ ever thought about suicide? She’d never said, but maybe—

“I knew she had a crush on me, and I knew she saw it like a date. I didn’t see her that way, so when I had the chance to go with someone else, I backed out. And Liz lied about having another date, but I think part of me always knew it was a lie.” He dragged his hands out of his hair. “When she didn’t show up at the dance or at Kelly’s, I went looking for her. If I had been ten minutes earlier—if I hadn’t backed out—”

“You weren’t a cop, Lucky. You didn’t know there was a monster lurking in the shadows,” Dante cut in. “But okay. Okay.” He swallowed hard and bowed his head, lowering it to rest against the bar. “I get it. I can’t wallow in the regrets. I can’t change anything. I just need to make it better.” He exhaled slowly, a shaky breath. “We have to find this guy. We _have_ to stop it from happening again.”

“Yeah.” Lucky dug out his cell phone as it began to ring. “Kelsey—”

“Oh, God. Did you—”

“Dante’s mother called him. We’re here at the bar. Where are you?”

“I’m—” He could hear her crying on her end of the line. “I’m at my apartment. I called Scott, but I don’t—he said there wasn’t anything we could do, but—”

“Hey, I’m gonna come get you, okay? Dante’s going to be with his family, but I’ll bring Cruz, and we’ll just—we’ll just sit together.” He saw Cruz nod. “There’s nothing any of us can do, so we’ll just do nothing together.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

He set the phone on the desk, then sighed. “If your family needs anything, Dante—”

“Thanks.” Dante scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s gonna destroy everyone back home. I don’t—” He looked at them. “We can’t let another family go through this.”

**Port Charles Grille: Dining Room**

Bobbie pushed her salad around her plate, stabbing at pieces of spinach and strawberries aimlessly. Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate, frowning at her. “What’s wrong? You’ve barely said a word since you got here-”

“What—” Bobbie blinked at him, then sighed. “Oh. I’m just…worried about…” She sat back in her chair, placing her fork at the side of her plate. “About Carly. And Sonny. How they’re getting back to normal. And with Elizabeth’s hearing coming up—”

“It should be a slam dunk to get the restraining order renewed,” Scott said, “but then again, that damn judge nearly let him stay in charge of her medical care because he’s a goddamn Puritan—” he grimaced. “I guess I should be relieved for once that Jason Morgan has his own personal security. I don’t need Lansing on the loose going after Elizabeth again.”

“I appreciate how you’ve handled this case, Scott. With both Elizabeth and Carly—they’re my family,” she told him. “And I know how much you loathe Sonny—”

“Yeah, well, the law is the law, and—I still think Corinthos is the scum of the earth, but—” he shrugged. “Morgan’s different. Where he is in his life—that’s not his fault. Corinthos took advantage of him when he didn’t know any better, and this is the only life he knows now.”

“I suppose.” Bobbie sighed. “I’m just—I’m worried about Carly. About them all. Jason and Elizabeth put themselves under such pressure to find Carly—Elizabeth knew how desperate he was, how much I wanted her found—and I know she stayed longer than she should have—”

“Yeah, Corinthos was a real stand-up asshole, wasn’t he? Letting everyone else do the work.” Scott scowled, leaning back as the waiter removed their salad plates. “Worried more about keeping _himself_ out of jail.”

Bobbie hesitated, shook her head. “He _wasn__’t_ handling it well, Scott. I think it reminded him too much of what happened to Lily and you remember that she was pregnant.”

“Another one of his victims—” Scott frowned. “Not handling it how? What, did he drink himself into a stupor? You know, if your daughter had any sense, she’d walk out on him. He treats women like crap. I’m not even talking about Karen. What about what he did to Brenda and Lily? To Hannah Scott?”

“I just wish he’d talk to someone—I don’t want it happening again. The next time, it might not be so easy to bring him back to reality,” Bobbie said. She then pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t get into it. You’re prosecuting Ric. Sonny might be a witness.”

“Right.” Scott’s phone, tucked in the pocket of his suit jacket, jangled. He reached for it and growled under his breath. “Mac Scorpio. His officers probably screwed something else up—” He flipped it open. “Baldwin.”

His brows drew together. “What? Say that again—how—Jesus. Ned and Lois—Okay. Okay. Yeah. I’ll—I’ll be in.” He stared at his phone for a long moment before gently closing it and setting it on the table.

“Scott—”

“I knew about the serial rapist. Did I tell you that?” Scott asked. He met Bobbie’s eyes and she was surprised by the way color had leeched from his skin, leaving his complexion almost chalk gray. “But I figured it was okay to keep it quiet because at least the PCPD had linked the cases, and I was gonna keep on top of them. We didn’t need any more bad publicity.”

“Was there another attack?” Her heart felt heavy, ached as she repeated her question. “Scott, did it happen again—”

“Brooke Lynn. She took all of her pain medication, and by the time Ned and Lois found her—it was too late.”

She pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling a sharp cry. “Scott—Oh, God. Was it—”

“They don’t know. It might have been an accident.” He dipped his head. “Those parents are going through the worst thing that could happen to them because I decided it would be bad for my office if people knew there was a serial rapist loose.”

“Scott—” Bobbie just shook her head. “I should go. I want to check on Lucas, on Maxie and Georgie.” She stayed seated for another moment. “But yes. You’re right. You and the PCPD nearly killed my daughter and Elizabeth because getting Sonny was more important to you. How many more women were attacked and raped because of the PCPD and Floyd? You let it happen.”

She got to her feet. “For all that you condemn Sonny and Jason for their crimes, I wish you’d look in the mirror. Those women didn’t matter to you anymore than Carly and Elizabeth did.”

**General Hospital: Emergency Room**

Ned was good in an emergency—he thought quickly and coolly under pressure. When his ex-wife had been sobbing, crying, rocking their daughter in her arms, Ned hadn’t broken down.

He had picked up the phone, called the authorities, and waited for them to arrive. He’d let them in, watched with an arm around Lois’s shoulder as they laid Brooke flat on the floor and attempted to resuscitate her. He could see the looks on their faces, understood the emotions and silent conversation the paramedics shared.

His daughter was gone, but they weren’t comfortable pronouncing it on the scene. No, a Quartermaine family member had to die in a hospital, declared by a doctor. By someone who could withstand the might of an enraged family.

They had forced a breathing tube down her throat, loaded her onto a stretcher, and then whisked her out of the room. Ned had taken Lois down to their car, not even noticing when his discarded cell phone crunched under his shoes.

He would have moved faster, would have broken the laws of physics to hurry to the hospital if he’d had even one ounce of hope that upon arrival, his daughter would be alive.

But he’d touched her skin. He’d seen the way her arms moved as Lois rocked her—dangling, without life.

He stood now, outside a cubicle, watching almost passively as Lois sobbed, as Monica embraced her, kept her from sinking to the floor. He felt Alan’s hand on his shoulder but said nothing. His mother tried to talk to him, but he ignored her.

There was nothing to say, nothing to feel.

He felt empty. He felt useless. Nothing in his life experience had ever really prepared him for this. He knew how to solve other people’s problems, navigate his family through their crises.

He simply did not have the toolset for his own misery.

“Ned?”

He blinked at the sound of his name and turned to find his best friends standing just behind him, Alexis’s face tear stained, Jax at her side, like a statue of stone. Neither of them approached him, just kept their distance.

He cleared his throat, looked around and found Lois now on the seats, still sobbing but her tears were silent, her shoulders trembling as Monica and Alan sat on either side of her. Tracy was talking to a shaken Edward near the doors.

He looked back at his friends. “She’s gone,” Ned managed. The words felt wrong. They didn’t seem as if he’d even said them. “My little girl.”

“We know. Alan called us.” Alexis took a gentle step forward, but still didn’t reach out towards him. “We don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing—” His throat closed. Something lurched inside of him, a flutter really. Nothing more than that. It began deep in his stomach, traveled through his lungs and up into his brain. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs squeezed as if they’d been clamped shut.

His knees failed him, and he sank to the ground, blinking rapidly as it finally seemed to hit.

His daughter, his bright, talented, shining beacon of good and light in this world—she was gone.

A hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades. He looked to find Jax kneeling beside him as Alexis bent in front.

“She’s gone,” Ned repeated. “My daughter is dead.” The first tears slid over his eyelashes, down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. He felt the cool splash of them on the skin of his neck. “I can’t bring her back.”

“No,” Jax said. “You can’t.”

And somehow, that simple truth was all he needed to hear—Brooke Lynn was dead. And nothing Ned could do—all the power and might of his family, all the money and wealth in the world—

Nothing could change it. Nothing could make it not true.

He drew in a shuddering breath, squeezed his eyes shut and let Alexis finally embrace him, burying his face in her neck, feeling Jax’s arms close around him.

He could never bring her back. He could never turn back time and take away all the wrong he’d done in her life and the pain she’d suffered in the park.

But he could stop it from happening again. He could keep another family from being destroyed, another father or mother from feeling this devastation.

He was going to burn down every single person who had put themselves above the people they’d sworn to protect and make sure no one ever forgot Brooke Lynn’s name.

His daughter was gone.

And someone had to pay.

**Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth was curled up on the sofa when Jason came back about an hour after she’d left Lucas at Kelly’s. He looked as exhausted as she felt. He dropped his keys on the table and sat next to her, tugging her into his arms, letting his chin rest on the top of her head.

“You stayed at the hospital for a while,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she let herself sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace. “I wanted to stop by, but I wasn’t sure—”

“I stayed for Monica. She’s always taking care of everyone else,” he told her. “But I figured she’d take it hard. She talked about Brooke a few times while you were in the hospital. Brooke was having a tough time after she moved here, and Monica said she’d tried to reach out to her.”

His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “I talked to Emily. She’s flying in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she called me. I was with Lucas Jones when she called. He was so upset—apparently he, Dillon, and Georgie had stopped by this morning and—” Elizabeth sighed. “Brooke pushed them away.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Do they know—do they know if it was an accident?”

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Taggert came to the hospital to talk to Ned and Lois. They said they’d sent a crime scene unit, but there was no note. Just the bottle of pills. Empty. That doesn’t mean anything, but—”

“How are Ned and Lois? That’s a stupid question.” She shook her head. “They’re devastated. They’re probably blaming themselves. I blame myself. If I had been here to get that call—I thought about reaching out to her again—”

She appreciated when Jason didn’t immediately tell her she was wrong, only drew her closer again. She tucked her head into his neck, closing her eyes again. “I just—I remembered that I wanted to be alone and I always pushed everyone away. It took a while for me to even really tell Lucky what happened. I mean, he knew. He, Luke, and Bobbie—they all _knew_ that first night, but I couldn’t say it. I wanted it not to have happened.”

Tears slid down her cheek, burning her skin. “I could pretend because no one else knew. Bobbie never told anyone. Luke and Lucky made me feel safe—Lucky always let me know I wasn’t alone. I was in my room one day—I hadn’t gone to school, and he just sat outside my front door, pounding on it for me to let him in. I didn’t. I couldn’t. But he was there, and I just—it made it okay. For a moment.”

“I’m glad you had that.”

“But Brooke couldn’t pretend. Everyone knew. Everyone looked at her, and I should have known that—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “But I’m going through my own thing. That’s what Gail would remind me. A year ago, I could have thought about nothing but Brooke. But I’m still grappling with what Ric did to me. And it was easy to push Brooke’s trauma out of my head because mine took up so much space.”

“You did everything you could, everything you were capable of.” Jason’s fingers slid through her hair, letting the strands fall to her shoulders. “I’m sorry for Ned, for Lois. They were the first people after my accident that I could manage to be in the room with for more than five minutes. Them, then Lila. They made me feel normal.” He was quiet for a moment. “Monica asked if we’d come to a service at the house if they have one here. She said she’d understand if we didn’t—”

“I just want to do whatever is easier for Ned—I mean—he knows Brooke called me—”

“He won’t blame you, Elizabeth—” he hesitated. “I’ll have Monica put some feelers out. I get what you’re saying. But he won’t blame you.”

“I just want this all to stop. I want them to catch this guy. He may not have forced Brooke to take those pills, but God, Jason, he killed her. I hope he burns in hell."


	12. Chapter Thirty-One

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_  
_She'll know I'm safe with you when_  
_She stands under my colors, oh and_  
_Life ain't always what you think it oughta be, no_  
_Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby_  
_The sharp knife of a short life,_  
_Well, I've had just enough time_  
\- If I Die Young, The Band Perry

* * *

_Sunday, July 20, 2003_

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

“I wish I knew what to do with all this anger,” Bobbie said as she leaned back to allow Penny Ramirez to place her salad in front of her. “I almost hope the Quartermaines take on the city for what happened to Brooke, and maybe you should go after them, too—”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Jason and I talked about it again last night. Justus called me to ask if I was interested in changing my mind. He said he was looking over my paperwork and with what happened with Brooke—but I can’t see myself using Brooke that way and—I was angry about what Capelli did—”

Restless, she swirled her straw in her glass of ice, swishing it from side to side. “He was suspended, and I know Taggert put Lucky and those other rookies on the house. What happened to me isn’t even the same league—” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe they’re still investigating rapes the same way they were five years ago. It seems _insane_ to me.”

“The rape kit?” Bobbie huffed. “When I think of how hard it was to convince you to turn over your dress and go in for that exam at all—” She shook her head. “To think that it sat for months—”

“I mean nothing came of it, but—” Elizabeth shrugged. “They couldn’t have known that. And how many other women’s cases sat on a shelf, going colder and colder.” She bit her lip. “How is Lucas? He was upset yesterday—”

“Well, that’s at least one good thing that came from all of this.” Bobbie managed a smile. “He said he spoke to you yesterday, so I know you know. He came home yesterday and introduced me to Felix.”

“Felix,” Elizabeth said slowly, not entirely willing to assume how much Lucas had told his mother. “His friend from college?”

“His boyfriend from college,” Bobbie corrected. “To be honest, I suspected for the last year or so—he’s never really had a girlfriend and, well…I’m glad he felt like he could finally live his truth. I don’t know if he’s coming out to anyone else right now, but thank you, Elizabeth. For being there for him yesterday.”

“I’m glad he was able to talk to you. I wish everyone would be as kind to him, but…” Elizabeth picked up her fork. “The world is a terrible place.”

“And I worry about him,” Bobbie admitted, “but at least he doesn’t have to hide from me anymore. And I’m sure Tony will be understanding. I encouraged him to open up to his father, so hopefully…” She scowled as a woman passed by them, heading into the diner. She carried a tote bag that with a sticker proclaiming I’M WITH FLOYD 2003. “I wish _someone_ were running against him.”

“Can’t believe in a city this size we’re stuck with one guy running. Floyd’s been mayor since I moved here. How is that possible?”

“Money and connections.” Bobbie shook her head. “And with ten days left to register for the election, we’ll probably be stuck with four more years of corruption and cronyism. And don’t—” She stabbed her fork in Elizabeth’s direction. “I see your wheels turning. I’m not running against him.”

“Well someone has to and since I’m currently dating a coffee exporter, I’m not eligible.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I just—I hate that Brooke’s family has to deal with this. I hate that this happened. I wish I could have been there for her—”

“You were there, Elizabeth. She called you, she reached out—it’s tragic you missed the call—” Bobbie pressed her lips together. “BJ nearly missed her bus that day. I called for her to hurry up. You went on a ride with your boyfriend. It’s terrible, but it’s human.” She paused for a moment. “Was this—did you ever think of…”

“You mean did I ever think of just doing something to make it all stop?” Elizabeth asked. She folded her arms on the table. “I don’t know. I spent a lot of those first days laying in bed, wanting the world to leave me alone. But I also—I had a goal. I didn’t want anyone to know, and I started measuring my days that way, congratulating myself every day I got through where I kept my secret. I had you to lean on in those first few days—you, Luke, and, of course, Lucky. And then once my grandmother found out—it just started to get easier to breathe.”

She bit her lip. “But if I’d gone through what Brooke did? She was _beaten_, Bobbie. Given pain pills to cope with her injuries. It was so hard to sleep those few days, and sleep was the only time I could really make it go away. If I’d had something to help me sleep…I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair. “I hope those rape kits come back and they find this bastard in the system somehow. I want this to be over. I don’t want another girl to go through this.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Jax** **’s Penthouse**

Jax put a glass of water down in front of Ned as his friend sat on his sofa, pouring over paperwork spread out over the dark coffee table, but Ned didn’t even look up.

There had been no question of returning to the gate house after leaving the hospital the night before—Lois had gone back to the suite she was sharing with Olivia, shell-shocked and devastated. And Ned?

Ned hadn’t yet slept. Hadn’t eaten. And would likely not even touch the water at his side.

Jax knew grief — though both of the women he had mourned had turned out to be alive, it hadn’t changed the years of suffering, the lingering ache of sadness. He had watched Brenda’s mother drive that car over the cliff, had searched for her for days, had chased her image around the world, desperate for any hint of her existence.

He would have gone to the ends of the earth to bring back either Miranda or Brenda, but he could not imagine the devastation of losing a child.

Alexis touched his shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. She tipped her head towards the kitchen, so Jax followed her, leaving Ned engrossed in the newspaper clippings and legal statutes. Brooke’s death had only increased his resolve to go after the city in some way.

“I don’t know how to get him through this,” Alexis confessed, her voice hushed. “He’s been through so much this year—when we lost Kristina last year, then my daughter born prematurely—he had to take care of her—” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to help him.” She looked towards the doorway. “He’s looking for revenge.”

“It’s all he knows,” Jax murmured. He leaned against the kitchen island and dragged a hand through his unruly blonde hair, disheveled from his own lack of rest. “He’s like me. Raised to locate the vulnerability and exploit it for my own gain. It’s what makes us good at our jobs—”

“But shit at personal lives. I know.” Alexis scrubbed her hands over her face. “He’s going to sue the city, but it’s not going to make it better. It never does.”

“Planning revenge gets him through today,” he offered. “And maybe tomorrow. But yeah, he’s gonna look up one day and realize it didn’t get him anywhere.” He crossed his arms. “Have you thought about distracting him with Krissy?”

Alexis heaved a sigh. “I’m thinking it might be selfish to keep asking Ned to maintain this lie.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “He was never supposed to be involved with raising her. It was just a fiction to keep Sonny away from her. But once—”

“Once you faked a mental illness to get out of paying for tossing that pissant over the balcony, the game changed. Yeah, I know.” Jax tipped his head to the side. “Nothing’s changed, Alexis. And it might be good for Ned. He’ll be a better father to Krissy than Sonny ever was.”

“I guess. I don’t know. I just—I wish I knew how to help him.”

“We’re going to help him get his revenge,” Jax said plainly. “However it has to happen, that’s what we’ll do. And then we’ll be there to pick up him when it’s over. We’ll stick together. Just like we always have.”

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

Lucky hesitated when he entered the courtyard, finding Elizabeth sitting at one of the tables, sipping an iced tea. He hadn’t seen her since his memories—and his emotions—had started to return. They were still a jumble of visions and images that didn’t feel like they made a lot of sense — but the time before the fire, that was starting to feel crystal clear.

And those memories—which had been damaged even before the last round of brainwashing—had him taking a deep breath and approaching her table. “Hey. Do you mind if I sit down?”

She glanced up and offered him a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Sure. I just had breakfast with Bobbie, but she had to run to the hospital. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. Emily landed this morning and we’re meeting for drinks.”

Lucky wasn’t entirely sure she meant that, but he took the seat across from her. “There are some things I have to say to you—things I didn’t tell you the last time we really talked. Or…after the wedding.”

Elizabeth set the menu down and leaned forward, folding her elbows on the table. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I mean—yes. Sort of.” He scratched his temple, trying to figure out exactly how to explain himself. “You know that Helena used the Ice Princess on me to…mess with the way I felt about you. The way I remembered you.”

“I do.” She tipped her head. “Are you starting to remember?”

“What I never told anyone is that…” He hesitated. “Is how far back she’d messed with my memories. When I came home, a lot of my life was…it was like swiss cheese, you know? Holes everywhere. I had trouble remembering my childhood, the people in my life—and you—she hadn’t figured out how to erase emotions but memories—those were messed up.”

“When you came home originally?” Elizabeth asked. She blinked. “But—”

“I loved you—I _knew_ I loved you—but I couldn’t remember why.” He fisted his hands on the table. “And then last year, she wiped all of my memories with you. Nikolas knew the memories were gone, too. Not just the emotions. But everything.”

He finally looked up to meet her eyes. They were soft and deep with sorrow. “Elizabeth—”

“I wish you could have told me that,” she murmured. “I’m sorry we were so far apart by then, Lucky. I’m glad Nikolas could be there for you.”

He exhaled slowly, feeling like his lungs could expand fully for the first time in years. “I tried at first to pretend it was all okay. But I couldn’t. And I started doing a lot of dumb things. I hurt you. And I wasn’t there for my mother when she needed me—” He looked away, pressure building behind his eyes. “I’m good at running away. I ran from you. I ran from my mother. After we rescued my dad last year, I couldn’t pretend anymore. My family was gone. You were gone. I didn’t have anything left.”

“But you’re doing better now,” Elizabeth said softly. “Aren’t you? Bobbie said you liked your job.”

“I met Dante and Cruz at the academy, and they didn’t know me before. They just know me now.” He hesitated. “It made it easier.” He managed a smile. “And then I met Kelsey.”

Elizabeth returned his smile. “Kelsey Joyce? From the DA’s office?”

“Yeah. It’s…new, but it’s nice.” He sat back. “And everything that’s good about my life right now—the things that are working—it just reminded me how things ended with you. How horrible I feel about all of that—”

“I think of how much damage we did to each other,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side. “Trying desperately to recapture those moments before the fire. Everything seemed so perfect, you know? I was in love with my best friend, planning an incredible future. I kept searching for that boy, Lucky. I hurt you. I hurt myself. I hurt people I cared about. I’m sorry.”

“_I__’m_ sorry,” Lucky said with a fervent shake of his head. “Because I know I made it worse. I made you feel like you were responsible for me. And you weren’t. We were all young and we were dealing with something that just…had no easy answers.” He leaned back in chair. “It’s been coming back this last week. Since I got to the park. I interviewed Dillon and I just—I knew the way he was feeling. The guilt, The anger. I could feel it boiling in my veins.”

He grimaced, looked away. “What happened to Brooke was—it was terrible, but we made it worse. We could have stopped it. They knew there was a serial rapist. The DA’s office made the link after the third attack, and Taggert officially took over the cases just before Brooke was attacked, but the mayor decided to block the warning. Couldn’t have it screwing up the summer tourism—” Lucky shook his head. “I’m sorry. This—”

“I was thinking about the pain Brooke must have been feeling and remembering how much I wanted the whole world to go away back then. Bobbie asked if…” Elizabeth stared down at her glass, feeling the condensation with her fingertips. “She asked me if it was something I dealt with. I mean, taking something to make it go away. And I just—I had you. And I had Bobbie, and your dad in his own bumbling way.”

A tear slid down her cheek even as she smiled. “The first day I didn’t go back to school, you came over and—my window was right over the front door? Remember? I was laying in my bed, curled up, with the blankets pulled over my head. Blocking out the world. But I could hear _you_. I knew I wasn’t alone.”

“I should have taken you to the dance, Elizabeth. We had a deal—”

She laughed, shaking her head even as she wiped at her years. “God, Lucky, no. You had to know I thought it was a date, and you were probably excited at a chance to make it seem like it wasn’t. You liked Sarah. You had your chance. I don’t blame you. I never did.”

“I know. And I tell myself all the time it’s not my fault, but—” He sighed. “I just want to do better. I want to do better by the women this asshole has hurt because it’s the right thing to do, but now because I remember how angry I was when we found out Baker wasn’t going to jail for what happened to you—”

“If I could have been more calm about the whole thing,” Elizabeth said, “if I hadn’t caused a mistrial, Dara Jensen never would have had to make a deal with him.” She bit her lip, drawing it between her teeth. “Baker’s up for parole soon. He sent me some sort of letter last week. I didn’t—I didn’t read it. But he’ll be out soon.”

“Well, that’s one thing Jason’s good for—” Lucky said with a rueful smile. “You’ll probably have a bodyguard.” He blinked. “Do you not have one today?”

“Cody’s inside watching me.” She twisted and gave her guard a little wave. “Jason doesn’t think Ric will approach me in public. Especially since he got permission to go to Crimson Point and stay with his father until the trial. It helps knowing he’s not in Port Charles.”

“It doesn’t worry you?”

Elizabeth jerked a shoulder. “Maybe it should. But what can he can he do to me that he already hasn’t? I have a restraining order, at least for a little while longer. I have a bodyguard. I’m out in public.” She lifted her chin. “I lived my life in fear for months, Lucky, back after my rape. I’m not going to do it again. I can’t let fear run my life.” She raised her brow. “Plus, Justus agreed to come back and take Jason and Sonny’s job offer, and he’s already set me up with the best divorce attorney in the state to handle my case. Ric isn’t going to run my life. Not ever again.”

“Fair enough.”

Emily came into the courtyard, then and Elizabeth hurried to her feet to hug her best friend. Lucky also got up and hugged his oldest friend. It was good to have her back. Especially now that he was starting to feel like himself for the first time in years.

“I’m so glad to see you, even though I wish you weren’t coming home for this,” he said as he drew back, leaving a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about Brooke.”

“It’s terrible,” Emily agreed, but she managed a smile. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Suite**

Lois placed the phone back on the receiver, then leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. It was easy to focus on the details of arranging for her daughter to be taken home to Bensonhurst, to purchase a plot in the cemetery, arrange for a viewing with her family and friends back home.

It was easy as long as Lois told herself it wasn’t real. That it was someone else who had died, that everything she had done so far today was for someone else’s child. Not her baby.

Not her Brooke.

In the armchair adjacent to the sofa, Olivia sat with her own lists and papers. She had spent the morning in her bedroom, making phone calls. Olivia Falconieri was more than her best friend, she was family. Her mother was Lois’s godmother, and Gloria Cerullo was Olivia’s. They were god sisters, and in their heavily Catholic neighborhood, that _meant_ something.

Annoying as Olivia often was, Lois knew she couldn’t get through this without her. Olivia had volunteered to call extended family and relatives to tell them about Brooke, leaving Lois to have to tell only her parents. Not having to repeat the devastation over and over again herself—

That was something.

But maybe if she had been saying it over and over again, it would feel real. Olivia had gone into the bedroom to spare Lois from having to hear her say it, but she could imagine it in her head. She’d barely managed to get the words out to her mother — telling her that Brooke had taken too many of her pain pills, medication given to her to lessen the agony she suffered from her injuries.

Injuries.

As if the only thing wrong with her little girl were the visible cuts and bruises.

No, Brooke had been suffering inside and Lois hadn’t been able to reach her. Hadn’t been able to solve her problems. The last time she’d spoken to her daughter before the attack, Brooke had had an attitude, had snarled at her about being sent to Port Charles like she was being exiled to freakin’ Siberia—and Lois had hung up on her.

She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. She’d hung up on her daughter. Hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t taken her complaints seriously. She’d snapped her cell phone shut and gone on with her day, not once knowing that was basically the last time she’d speak to her daughter—Brooke had barely even spoken to her after she’d woken up.

“Lois,” Olivia said hesitantly, “Monica called me while I was—in the bedroom,” she said after a brief pause. “She understands if you don’t want to come, but she and Lila would like to have something at the house for Brooke.”

Lois squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to go back to that house. Not to the main house where her life with Ned had fallen apart, and certainly not to the gatehouse where Brooke’s despair had led her to the dark abyss.

But Lila had always been kind to her, and she knew from Ned that Monica and Dillon had reached out to Brooke during her time in Port Charles.

She’d come to Port Charles on Wednesday, angry and ready to burn down the world. And she’d been so angry she’d missed her daughter’s pain.

“I don’t want to go,” Lois said slowly. “I can’t—I can’t do it, twice, Liv, and my parents—they need to have something for her at home. I can’t—” Her throat squeezed shut. “I can’t say goodbye twice. But it’s okay. If they have—they can do it.”

“Okay. Do you—” Olivia joined her on the sofa and squeezed her hand. “Do you mind if I go? I’m sure Dante will, and I’m worried about him. I was thinking of hanging around Port Charles a few more weeks, just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay.” Lois drew in a shuddering breath. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay. You go to the service here, and then I can take Brookie back home—and I can never set foot in Port Charles again. That works for me.”

**Scorpio House: Living Room**

Felicia squeezed her youngest daughter tightly, pressing her lips to the top of Georgie’s head. “I’m so sorry, honey, for what happened to your friend.” She looked at Mac, frowning at her ex-husband as he sat the table, his head in his hands.

Since Mac had picked her up from the airport an hour earlier, he had been quiet. Withdrawn. She knew the press was digging at him, making it all his fault. She’d come home for her girls, but also for Mac. She thought he deserved someone who was in his corner.

“Is it okay if we go out?” Georgie asked, pulling away from her mother. She swiped at her eyes. “We didn’t know you were coming today, and Maxie and I were going to check on Dillon.”

“Of course, baby.” She kissed Georgie’s cheek, then hugged Maxie before the girls left. Once they had, she turned her attention to Mac and sat next to him at the table. “Spill it.”

“It’s been a long month, Felicia.” Mac pulled away from the table and went into the kitchen. He took down a container of instant coffee and started to make himself a cup. “I’m tired.”

“Mac—”

“Look—” He turned to meet her eyes. “The newspapers aren’t wrong. I screwed up the case. I knew some of my guys weren’t doing the job right, but there was a lot going on this year. Alcazar’s murder trial, then Maxie’s overdose last spring, then Carly was kidnapped—I can’t be on top of every case.”

“Of course not—”

“But I should have told the mayor to shove it when he refused to let us issue a warning. I’m—” Mac turned, stared at the cabinets. “I’m not the commissioner this town needs.”

“Oh, come on, Mac, that’s not fair—”

“I’ll never be as good as Robert or Anna. Or even Sean.” He shook his head. “I know that’s what people think. I’m just the lesser Scorpio brother.” He looked at her. “The lesser husband.”

“That’s not fair and it’s _not_ true.” Felicia took his elbow and forced him to turn back towards her. “_I_ messed up our marriage. Not you. And yeah, maybe this case got messed up, but you can’t do it all. The mayor could have fired you—”

“Well, I’m done letting Floyd run my office,” Mac said as he shoved the cup into the microwave to heat it up. “This is the last time I’m going to let him make the call.”

Felicia hesitated, then furrowed her brow. “Does…are there are other times Floyd has asked for a favor?”

Mac was quiet for a minute as the sound of the microwave filled the room. “No,” he said finally. Felicia knew he was lying to her but didn’t call him on it.

If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, there was nothing she could do to force him. He looked like he was wallowing in self-pity, and she knew that wasn’t like him. She would just have to drag him back to reality before she could figure out exactly what he’d gotten himself into. It was her turn to offer unwavering support, for all the times she hadn’t done right by him.

**Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office **

Jason shifted uneasily in his seat as Sonny signed the last document Bernie set in front of him. Once their business manager had left, he took a deep breath. “Elizabeth still doesn’t know what Tom Baker said. I started to tell her, but—” He hesitated. “I can’t tell her, but I also can’t let it go.”

Sonny grimaced, then stood. He crossed to the minibar and poured himself a drink. “Why?”

“Because Brooke Lynn Ashton was raped at a fountain in the park.” Jason frowned at him. “And she’s dead now. She’s the fourth young woman raped near a fountain this year. Baker’s saying he didn’t attack Elizabeth. It’s gotta be the same guy.”

“Then it’s the cops’ problem isn’t it?” Sonny turned to him, squinting. Jason realized belatedly that this obviously wasn’t his first drink of the day. “I told you, the cops already know about Elizabeth’s case—”

It probably wasn’t even his third. Sonny was drinking heavily again—that was never a good sign. But Jason took a deep breath. “It’s Lois’s daughter, Sonny. And maybe the cops still think Baker’s confession stands. If he was lying that day, it means the scumbag who hurt Elizabeth is still out there—”

“When the cops find him, you can take him out.” Sonny shrugged. “Just like we’re going to do to Ric when the heat dies down. But nothing you can do until then—”

Jason shook his head. He was getting nowhere with this. He was never going to get Sonny’s approval. Good thing he hadn’t planned on waiting for it. “I already did something. I left a tip on their hotline, telling them to look at their cold cases.” When Sonny scowled at him, Jason clenched his teeth. “Look, I know all the reasons we don’t trust the PCPD, but I think Taggert can be trusted—”

Sonny sneered. “Listen to yourself — you’re telling me after _everything_ the PCPD has done this month, you want to give them more ammunition against Elizabeth? What if they take what you give them and put it in the papers, like they did with you going to the house? Those rookies must have told the cops you were there. They twisted it. They gave it to the tabloids—”

“I know that—”

“And you want to give them a reason to discredit Elizabeth?” Sonny shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly, Jase.” He took a seat behind the desk. “You said Elizabeth still doesn’t know what he said?”

“No.” Jason sat down. “She didn’t want to know.”

“Is _that_ how you want her to find out? The cops leaking to the papers? And look, I get it. Taggert’s always been good to Elizabeth.” Sonny shook his head. “But you know better. She’s connected to you now. And Taggert’s been after us—” He jabbed a finger at Jason. “You tell the cops what Baker told you, it’ll be in the _Sun _the next day, and then Liz finds out what else you’re not telling her. You think it’ll matter that she told you not to tell her? Once it’s out there in the world? You want to put her on display again?”

“Sonny—”

“Look, I made some inquiries at the PCPD. A guy on our payroll is keeping an eye on the case. Right now, Liz’s case isn’t on their radar. If you’re right, and it’s the same guy, maybe they’ll get him, and he’ll be off the streets. You could tell her then.” Sonny leaned forward. “You broke up with my sister because she cooperated with the cops. How is what you’re doing any different?”

Jason couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t explain why it felt different. He just knew that it was, and he knew that Sonny was wrong about waiting for the PCPD to take care of it. Still, he wasn’t wrong that the wrong cop might hear this information and leak it to the press.

The press fervor over Elizabeth and Carly had only just begun to die down, mostly because of the serial rapes. If Jason went to the police now, he’d just make her part of it all over again. And hadn’t Monica told her to avoid stress? Hadn’t he put her through enough by just saving that damn letter, going to see Baker, and then decided keeping the secret was more important than what she’d asked him to do?

He’d promised her he would put her first and she’d told him to leave it alone.

“They might not pull Elizabeth’s case,” Jason said, finally. “Like you said, they believed Baker’s confession. I did—” He shook his head. “I did what I could to help, and I guess I’ll just let it be enough.”

For now. He looked at Sonny, who was already refilling his glass. Jason had a lot of other things to worry about.


	13. Chapter Thirty-Two

_Cause standing still _  
_Isn't easy _  
_When the world's moving backwards_  
_The world's moving backwards_  
_So get your fill _  
_But please believe me_  
_That the world's moving backwards _  
_The world's moving backwards_  
\- Moving Backwards, Ben Rector

* * *

_Monday, July 21, 2003_

**PCPD: Conference Room**

Taggert sighed when he saw Lucky and Cruz enter the room for their morning meeting. “Falconieri not coming in?”

“He’s spending the day with his mother and Lois, helping them with arrangements.” Cruz took a seat and frowned at him. “Did you think he’d be here? I spent half the weekend trying to convince him not to quit.”

“Yeah.” Taggert looked at Lucky who had sat down quietly. “Yeah, I get it. Look, we’re going to open up the case a bit. I don’t think that the attack in February was his first.”

Cruz exchanged a glance with Lucky. “What makes you think that?”

Taggert hesitated, then decided to not to mention the tip he’d received. “Looking over the statements that Esposito took—even in the detail they lack, there are enough common threads that make me think his MO was a little too developed in that first attack. What happened to Dana Watson is what happened to Brooke Lynn Ashton. Grabbed after leaving the movies, near a fountain, beaten, raped, handcuffed—”

“You should have seen an escalation,” Lucky muttered. “If Dana Watson is the first victim, he should be refining his technique, right?”

“Right. Making small adjustments—or improvements.” Taggert grimaced. “But the attacks are identical, even down to the type of injuries. They’re controlled. I’m not saying that it’s impossible, it just feels like he already had his attack down before the Watson case. If he didn’t hit Port Charles, then maybe another city.” He glanced down at his records. “Including Brooke Lynn Ashton, there are thirteen open rapes going back to 1995. Four of them are from this year and already at the lab. The other nine? Scattered between 1995 and 2000. Our older case records aren’t computerized yet—nothing past 2000.”

“You want us to pull all nine?” Lucky asked, leaning forward, his eyes on Taggert. “_All_ of them?”

Neither of them said her name, but Taggert knew what the younger man was referring to. “Yeah. Look at all of them. Bring them up. Go through them. Make me a list of possible related cases. We’re sending all of the kits to the lab thanks to the funding the new ADA got us, but I want to read and be familiar with the files before we get any lab work back. Maybe we can close a few other cases even if they’re not linked. Let’s try to do some good.”

He got to his feet, then hesitated, looked back at them. “What happened to Brooke this weekend—what happened to her and the other women—that’s on the PCPD, but it’s not on you two. Or Falconieri. We’re trying to do better, but it’s not going to happen overnight.”

“Are we done throwing women under the bus?” Cruz muttered as he and Lucky stood. When Taggert just raised his brows at him, Cruz shrugged. “Brooke Lynn Ashton wasn’t the first woman to get screwed over by this department in the month I’ve worked here. I’m just not sure who we’re serving and protecting.”

“Everyone,” Taggert told him. “But yeah, it doesn’t always feel that way. We’re trying, Rodriguez. I’m trying. We need to work this case and bring him to justice before another woman gets attacked. Let’s focus on getting that much right.”

**Quartermaine Estate: Patio**

Dillon had set eyes on Georgie Jones on his first day in Port Charles and had fallen for her, hook, line, and sinker the minute she’d grabbed him at that pay phone, kissed him, and told him to play along for her sister.

For the last five months, they’d been dating, and he’d been happy. She, along with Maxie and Lucas, were really the first friends he’d ever made and kept for more than a few weeks and Dillon had been enjoying that. Until Brooke had shown up and reminded him how lonely he’d been once.

Georgie had come over to keep him company as his family got ready for Brooke’s memorial service, but so far, she’d just fretted over the treatment her stepfather was receiving in the newspapers and tabloids. And she was dancing around the real reason Mac was under fire that day—

“Just say it,” he told her after nearly twenty minutes of listening to her ramble and tell stories about what a good guy Mac was. “You didn’t come over here because you were worried about me. You came to say something.”

Georgie pressed her lips together, grimaced. “I just—I _know_ your family is grieving, I guess, even though they barely knew Brooke, and I get Ned is devastated, but they’re taking it out on Mac and he’s going to end up fired—”

“They’re taking it out on him,” Dillon repeated, “because your stepfather fucked up royally and now my niece is dead. Four women have been brutally attacked and raped.” He snorted. “But yeah, Mac’s a great guy. He’s an idiot, Georgie—”

She lunged up from the patio chair. “He works so hard, Dillon. You have no right—”

“He didn’t notice a serial rapist was working in the park,” Dillon shot back. “And then when he did figure it out, he let the mayor get away with being a giant dick about tourism and didn’t tell anyone. Tell me, Georgie, why didn’t you and Maxie go with us in the park to look for Brooke? Did he warn you?”

Georgie paled, looked away, and swallowed hard. “He told us we shouldn’t go in the park after dark. But he’s _always_ said that, Dillon. It wasn’t new.”

“Bullshit. He warned you without telling you. Brooke didn’t get that warning. And now she’s dead—” He waved a hand at her, dismissing her as he turned to go back in the house.

“She’s not dead because of my father!” Georgie snapped back. “She took a bunch of pills—” She stopped abruptly when Dillon spun back to confront her, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean that, Dillon. I know she was hurting—”

“It took weeks for you to give her a chance.” He shook his head. “It took _all_ of us weeks to give her a chance, and when she needed someone in her corner, where were we?”

“We tried—she kicked us out—”

“We shouldn’t have gone. I should have known better. I never had _anyone_ growing up. I knew how lonely she was—” Dillon shook his head. “I’m not going to ask my brother and my family to let up on the PCPD. They’re morons and right now, your stepfather is their king. So, don’t come over here again defending him.”

“I won’t!” Georgie stomped down the steps of the patio, obviously opting to exit through the garden entrance to the estate, bypassing the house.

He couldn’t believe Georgie, of all people, would have come here less than two days after Brooke had died, trying to defend the man responsible. He didn’t care what kind of saint Mac Scorpio was. Brooke was dead, and it was, at least partially, his fault.

**Quartermaine Estate: Front Room**

“This is not the conversation I need to be having the day before I bury my daughter,” Ned said as he turned away from the window and looked back at his grandfather.

“I apologize for the timing,” Edward said gruffly, his usual fire and brimstone dimmed with grief and weariness. “But you want someone to pay for what happened at the PCPD, and if we can’t find someone to run against Floyd in November, it’ll have to be you.”

Ned scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to find the energy to explain to Edward why it was a terrible idea for him to run for mayor.

Except…why not?

Why shouldn’t it be him?

It _couldn__’t_ have been him before Brooke…he would have been putting her in the spotlight, making a terrible situation even more horrific for his daughter. But she was gone.

And _someone_ had to pay for that. Could Ned even believe that the PCPD would find the animal who had raped her, who had driven her to take so many pain pills that she had—

No. If Floyd stayed in office, he’d keep Mac as commissioner, and the two of them would just keep protecting one another, leaving the citizens of the city to rot. Throwing away women like his little girl so they could keep their power.

Who knew the damage they could do better than Ned? He’d watched them as they’d screwed up Carly Corinthos’ kidnapping, leaving her rescue up to the woman Ric had been drugging and abusing to the point poor Elizabeth had nearly died. He had a front row seat to the damage their political cover-ups had done to his family—

His daughter was never going to have a chance to grow up. To write her songs, to make the music she’d dreamed of for so long. She’d been broken, irreparably, by some piece of trash that the PCPD had let wreak havoc for months without once warning the public—

And it was because of Floyd. The poison started at the top. So maybe it was time to rip it out at the roots.

“Get me the paperwork,” Ned told Edward. “I’ll do it.”

**Brownstone: Backyard**

Lucas sighed as he watched his cousin delicately adjusting the strap of her tank top to avoid tan lines on her shoulders. Maxie laid back on the lounger and peered over at him as he sat down and set a glass of lemonade next to her. “I told you I’d get it. I came over to cheer you up.”

That’s what she had announced a half hour ago when she’d shown up on his doorstep with her sunglasses and suntan lotion tucked in a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Then she’d arranged herself on the lounger in his backyard which reminded him that his house got better afternoon sun than hers.

He adored his silly and frivolous cousin, and she had, in her own way, brightened his day.

“It feels weird to be affected by any of this,” he said after a long moment. “Two weeks ago, Brooke was Dillon’s family, someone we were tolerating because we liked him. I mean, I had maybe a handful of conversations with her that were longer than five seconds. Do I even have a right to be upset about any of this?”

“Listen.” Maxie peered at him over the tips of her dark lenses. “Time is dumb. Who gets to decide how long you gotta know a person before you get to be sad about losing them? You liked Brooke. I know you did. And so did Dillon. And I bet she and I were gonna be friends, mostly because I think she really annoyed Georgie, and you _know_ how that gets me going. We get to be sad about what’s never gonna happen just as much as we’re sad about what did.”

She sighed, then looked back up at the sky. “Plus, we’re not just feeling sad. We’re feeling guilty. If we had just stopped worrying about ourselves for five minutes, maybe we could found her faster. Or maybe—”

“Or maybe I could stop picking fights with your idiot boyfriend.”

Maxie raised a brow as if to say, well, duh. “But my idiot boyfriend could _also_ not take the bait. He feels just as shitty as we do, Lucas.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the seat. “I know you don’t like Kyle. And I get that he did something incredibly stupid and awful, but I’m not exactly innocent, you know? I’m not perfect. And I don’t get to demand perfection from anyone else. He’s a dumb jock who’s figured out he’s a dumb jock. He wants to do better. I’m happy with him. I’d like you to give him a chance.”

“Yeah. Well…” Lucas hesitated. “I need to tell you something, Maxie. I haven’t told you before because I didn’t know how you’d deal with it. And I wasn’t ready to tell my mom. But I told Brooke. And I told Mom. I’m done hiding.” He waited until Maxie slid the sunglasses to the top of her head. “I’m gay.”

His cousin stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.”

Lucas squinted. “I mean, _gay_, Maxie. Like I have a boyfriend. His name is Felix.”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “Can I meet him?”

A bit at sea over her nonplussed response, Lucas cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I guess. You know what gay is—”

“Oh, Oh, I’m not reacting right, am I?” Maxie squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back. “Okay, let’s do it again. I can be _way_ more dramatic. From the top.”

He laughed, then switched to sit next to her. He slung an arm over her shoulder in a partial hug. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad Brooke was someone you could come out to,” Maxie told him. “I figured she was into girls because she totally checked out my ass a few times. I wish I could have known her longer.” She exhaled slowly. “Georgie’s fighting with Dillon because of the stuff Ned and his family are saying in the papers, you know.”

“Yeah, I read it. And I saw the news last night.” Lucas returned to his seat. “Georgie’s always been more sensitive about these things—”

“Georgie has a hard time seeing people for who they are,” Maxie said with a shake of her head. “She still thinks my dad is this awesome guy who’s sacrificing his own life to save lives. Sure, Frisco’s doing good work for someone out there, but he’s also a guy who finds adventure more interesting than being a father. Mac’s the only dad I really remember. And it sucks to find out he’s human.”

She reached for her lemonade. “He told me and Georgie to stay out of the park. He didn’t tell me why. I mean, damn it, Lucas, he’s supposed to protect people. Why didn’t he protect Brooke? Or those other girls in the paper? Can’t Georgie see that Mac screwed up?”

She twirled the straw in the glass with a heavy sigh. “How do I make those guys fit in my head? The dad I grew up with, who could do no wrong—how could he be the same kind of guy who just…abandoned the people he was supposed to protect?”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott Baldwin** **’s Office**

Kelsey dropped some paperwork on the conference table as she took her seat across from Scott. “Taggert had the rookies in his division send over the rape kits from the nine open cases in cold storage.”

“Good, good. When does he expect the results back?”

“Well, we put a rush on the orders,” Kelsey told him as she tied her hair back in a ponytail. “The original three victims from this year were sent over last week, Brooke Ashton’s last Wednesday. We should have them back sometime in August. And then probably the last nine first week of September.”

Scott grimaced. “Science needs to move faster—” He looked at her. “How many cases did you say were in cold storage?” He started sifting through his notes, looking for a list he’d made after a meeting with Mac. “He sent me a list of open rapes before—”

“Nine in cold storage, four active, so thirteen…” Kelsey tilted her head. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think about it at the time, but back when Taggert took over Major Crimes, he said he wanted to send over twelve kits. He had the three open, and nine from cold storage. That makes sense. Brooke makes thirteen.”

“So?”

“So, when Floyd was yelling at me and Mac last week, Mac said fourteen—” Scott found the list of cases and counted them, sliding his fingers down the list. “There are only twelve on this list, too. This was made before Brooke.”

“Maybe Mac messed up the number. He hasn’t really been on top of the rape cases.” Kelsey tapped her pile of paperwork. “It’s not like we don’t have proof he’s not always great with the details.”

“Yeah, I guess. You said the rookies are working on the cold cases?”

“Yeah, Taggert sent them down to storage to pull everything that was open so he could go through them. Make sure this is the first time our guy has hit Port Charles. I agree with him — the style is too specific to be brand new. Unless he’s unique in some way. He also just wants to be familiar with them if the kits come back with a hit.” Kelsey leaned forward to peer at the paperwork in front of Scott. “The Lansing case?”

“Yeah.” Scott sighed. “Lansing is making noises about credibility of the witnesses. Liz and Carly are both seeing therapists — that’ll be easy to explain since he tried to kill them both and they’re traumatized. But he must know something about Sonny, because he warned me he’s putting together a subpoena on that.” He shook his head. “Liz has a hearing to renew the protection order on Friday.”

“I’ve seen the evidence, Scott. She should be a shoo-in—”

“Yeah, well, it’s before the same judge that slapped the injunction on Morgan for Liz’s power of attorney and dragged his feet about letting us arrest Ric for the kidnapping. I don’t trust the family court when it comes to Liz.” He grimaced as he continued to make notes. “Plus, he’s gonna use the fact that Liz is dating Morgan now as evidence of something. He’s an asshole and they always get away with bullshit like this.”

He set his pen down. “I’ve been thinking of maybe offering him some sort of deal.”

Kelsey lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Because this is a big case. And your handling of it has been basically the only thing the media likes. You got a lot of good ink when you got held in contempt—”

“Yeah, well…” Scott huffed. “That’s not why I did it. I’m looking at these subpoenas, and even though Ric can’t make Liz and Carly give him statements prior to trial, he’s defending himself. How can I put them through a trial and testimony? He nearly killed Elizabeth, and Carly’s still in therapy.”

“So, you’d offer him a plea?” Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “He’s on the hook to go away for life if the right judge gives him consecutive sentences. You think it would make them happier if he spent less time in prison?”

“The difference between parole in twenty-five years and no parole at all isn’t much. Liz and Carly might be okay with twenty-five years of a Ric-free existence. Look, I’m just thinking about it.”

“You’d talk to them first, right?” Kelsey bit her lip. “I mean, not just talk, Scott. You should ask them. They may _want_ to testify. It might be something they’re looking forward to.”

“If I didn’t talk to them first, Bobbie would cut my head off, and believe me, she’s already not so happy with me these days.” He sighed. “Let’s talk about the other open cases. What’s on the docket this week?”

**Condo: Hallway**

When Emily had suggested Jason and Elizabeth join her and Lucky for dinner at Kelly’s, Elizabeth had been hesitant, but Jason and Lucky seemed to be fine together. Apparently, Emily told her, they’d worked together while Elizabeth had been in her coma. Another sign that her ex-boyfriend was starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again.

They’d tried not to talk about what brought Emily back to Port Charles this time, but it was difficult to stay off the topic of Brooke. Lucky didn’t talk about the investigation, but it was on their minds. Afterwards, she and Jason said goodbye to his sister and Lucky, then took a drive on the cliff roads.

But Brooke was still in her head when they got back to her condo building and Elizabeth couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done _more_ to help the younger woman.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she put her key in her lock and glanced at Jason as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not great company tonight.”

He tipped his head to the side. “You want me to leave?”

“No.” She pushed her door open, feeling very sure about that. “No. I guess I’m just—I’m thinking about Brooke again. About these last few weeks since that letter from Baker…since I found out Ric was drugging me for so long…” She closed the door and tossed her keys on the coffee table.

She could still see the last vestiges of the sunset on the horizon as she crossed to her large window overlooking the harbor. “And I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened to me back then. Did I tell you it was the same…the same place as Brooke? In the park?”

She glanced over her shoulder as he drew closer to her, his brow furrowed. “You said something that night, I think.”

“I couldn’t remember anything for weeks.” She managed a smile, her face reflected dimly in the glass in front of her. “I didn’t want to remember anything. It came back in fits and starts, you know? I remembered something he said to me. The way he smelled. But I still pushed away most of it. Until I started seeing Gail. God, it all came back so fast during one session, but still I couldn’t let myself remember all of it—”

She sighed and turned to face him, leaning against the window. “You remember when you came home that August?”

“Yeah.”

“I had cut my hair short.” Elizabeth touched the ends of hair. “Shorter than I had in years. Because I remembered the way he had touched it. He had wrapped his fingers in it. Smelled my hair. If I could have dyed it without explaining to anyone, I might have. I settled for chopping—” She hesitated, seeing the wince on his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about this—”

“It’s—” Jason shook his head, looked away. “I knew before that night at Jake’s—before you told me. I knew what you’d been through. Logically. Until these last weeks—until that letter from Baker—I don’t think I ever _really_ understood it.”

“Jason—”

“What you went through. What you still go through.” He turned away, then sat on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I can’t make it go away. I can’t make it stop. And I keep thinking about that night—when I told you I had gone to see him—”

“Hey.” She perched on the coffee table in front of him, slid her fingers under his chin so he’d look at her. “Jason.”

“I listened to you, and I just—I remember that day at the docks. When I saw you and I saw that you had cut your hair.” His mouth twisted. “Do you know what I thought when I saw you?”

“No.” She tilted her head. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, but then shrugged. “I always liked your hair, I guess. I’d never really thought about it. But you were just—I liked it. I wanted to—” He shook his head. “It’s not—”

“When I saw you that day,” Elizabeth told him, “when I ran to you on the docks, and you hugged me—I was attracted to you. Is that what you don’t want to say? That a haircut I got made me more attractive to you?”

“It’s not the right time—”

“It is,” Elizabeth pressed. “Because if I let you back away from this—it’s like I need to be protected from the way you feel about me. The way I thought _you_ felt.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s not like I wrote you before that day and said I remembered that my rapist did something disgusting with my hair, so I cut it as short as I could without people asking questions. You came home, you saw me, and you liked it. I’m glad. I mean, if we’re sharing embarrassing memories — when I used to change your bandage that winter you were shot—I used to fantasize about licking you.”

A startled laugh escaped his lips and he dipped his head. “Christ. It’s not the same—”

“No, but you know? I hated that haircut and it’s taken forever to grow out. Now? Knowing you thought I was hot with it—” Her smile felt wicked. “I kind of want to cut it again.”

He smiled again, but his eyes were still sad. “Elizabeth—” Jason shook his head, rose to his feet to walk to the window, then paced back to the sofa. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. To say. Are you okay? This isn’t even about me—”

She crossed to him, where he stood by the table, reaching out her fingers to twist in the soft tan fabric of his t-shirt. She could feel the muscles of his abdomen tense beneath the shirt. “I told Bobbie after it happened that I didn’t think I could ever be with someone again. Not the way I could have before then. She told me it would be okay someday, but I didn’t believe her.”

“But you found Lucky.”

“I did,” Elizabeth admitted. “But it was sweet. And light. Gentle. If he’d lived—the version of him that I loved so very much—if that Lucky hadn’t died, I don’t know what would have happened. But I put myself back into a box. Until you.”

Jason frowned slightly, shook his head. “I don’t—”

“The first time we were on your bike,” Elizabeth said, tipping her head up. “I climbed on behind you and wrapped my arms around you. I felt tingly all over. I didn’t even really understand what I was feeling. Not then. It was new. And it was good.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And when you were half naked for weeks in my studio?” Her cheeks were flaming. “You probably could have just crooked your finger at me, and I would have followed you anywhere. You gave me that back. That sense of being a woman. Of knowing that I could feel that way again.”

“I didn’t do—”

“No, you didn’t. It was just enough that you were there, that you were kind, and that you were my friend. I felt safe with you. Safe enough that if you hadn’t left. If things had been different—” She lifted a shoulder. “Things _would_ have been different.”

“You weren’t ready,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. His hands drifted down her shoulders, his fingers warm through the cotton of her shirt. “It was better that way.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Jason, what I went through—I went through it. And I’m on the other side. Mostly. I’ll have bad moments. And they’re not going to be easy for either of us. I really don’t want it or anything else to be the reason you step away from me. Or this. Not when we’re finally on the same page at the same time.”

“I don’t want that either.”

Their eyes met and she wasn’t entirely sure who had moved first, but then he was kissing her. Not just with the sweetness and gentleness they’d shared for the last few weeks, but with something more. Or maybe he’d just stopped holding back.

She wrapped her fingers in his t-shirt as his hands dived into her hair, tilting her head back as Jason drew her closer.

“Jason—” she managed to say. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He hesitated again, his breath warm and quick against her lips. His eyes asked the question silently and she answered it with a rocking of her hips against him.

There had been enough waiting, enough talking, and she was done with it. Done with waiting for her life to start over. Waiting to take the next step. Waiting to give herself to this man that she had loved for so long.

Somehow, they were in the bedroom, but it wasn’t fast and quick. It was the dreamy slow motion she’d fantasized about so often. She stripped him of his shirt, and then he peeled hers over her head.

Their jeans hit the floor at some point, and then they were on the bed. The tingles she had told him about earlier were back, but they were like piercing needles as the tension built inside her. She wanted his hands everywhere at once, and if not, then maybe his mouth—everywhere he touched her felt like fire.

He slid inside her like she’d always been waiting for him, and she drew in a sharp breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s movements stilled as his hands framed her face, his thumb catching on his tears. “Are you—”

“It’s just…so much more than I ever imagined,” she managed, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t it just…feel right?”

He leaned down, brushed her lips softly. “Yeah.” His hand slid down her bare torso, hooking her knee higher and she gasped at the sensation. How could anything that felt this good be legal?

When the end came, everything shattered inside her. Dimly she could her name was on his lips. And then it was quiet, the only sound in the room was that of their own shallow breathing.

Until she started to gasp for air, clutching at her chest as she frantically rolled away from him, reaching for the oxygen tank at the side of her bed.


	14. Chapter Thirty-Three

_I guess it's gonna break me down_  
_Like fallin' when I'm try to fly_  
_It's sad but sometimes_  
_Moving on with the rest of your life_  
_Starts with goodbye_  
\- Starts With Goodbye, Carrie Underwood

* * *

_Tuesday, July 22, 2003_

**Condo: Bedroom**

Elizabeth gasped for air as she could faintly hear Jason shouting her name. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to fit the oxygen mask over her face. His hands brushed hers aside as he fitted the mask, then switched on her tank. It didn’t work. She couldn’t draw in a full breath. The pressure in her chest grew like someone was squeezing her lungs with their fist—

What had Monica said? Tears stung at her eyes as she tried to pull air in through the mask. She couldn’t remember. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

Jason had flung himself out of bed and was kneeling in front of her. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make it out—

“Look at me,” Jason said, his voice rough, panicked. “Hey. C’mon—” He swore as her breathing remained shallow and rapid. He crossed the room and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling 911—”

“No—” she gasped. “No. Not again—” Some of the pressure finally started to ease and she was able to take a full breath for the first time.

She pressed a fist to her chest, a sob of relief escaping her lips and causing her mask to fog up. She took another full breath. Then a third.

When she felt like she had it under control, she lifted the mask from her face. “I’m okay.” But she felt exhausted, pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry.”

A lamp next to her bed switched on, then Jason handed her a robe that had been hanging from the back of her door. He pulled on his briefs and sat next to her. “You had an oxygen tank,” he said flatly. “Why? I thought Monica gave you the all clear at your last follow up—”

Feeling weary, Elizabeth sighed and stood. She swayed slightly but righted herself. “I need something to drink,” she murmured. She brushed off his hands as he tried to keep her seated. “I need to move, Jason. Monica said moving would help—”

“Elizabeth—”

But he said nothing else, just followed her out of the bedroom into her small kitchen and waited as she poured herself a glass of water and sipped it, feeling the cool liquid soothe her sore throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated as she turned to look at him. There were no lights on in the main part of the apartment, just the moonlight filtering in through the window above her sink.

Jason leaned against the opposite counter, his face hidden by the shadows. “Did Monica give you the all clear or not?” he asked.

“She did,” Elizabeth said, defensively. She tugged her robe more tightly closed, holding the two sides together with a fist at her throat. “Mostly.”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t—” Not really. She just… “Monica told me I was clear for clots, that wasn’t a lie. And that I could resume normal activities…except...” She bit her lip. “She said that I would probably have issues with…stamina, I guess. I couldn’t walk far or—” She took a step towards him, but he didn’t move, so she stopped awkwardly. “She said I might find myself short of breath and that I had to be careful because it might lead to a panic attack or hyperventilating. That’s all that was—”

“That’s all that was,” he repeated. He leaned over and flipped on the light switch. The bright, unnatural light was harsh on her eyes and she squinted. She saw then that Jason wasn’t irritated—

He was _furious_. His blue eyes had that icy, almost gray flint hue they took on when he was really mad, his shoulders were tense, the muscles in his face twitching.

“Jason—”

“You were gasping for air. You couldn’t breathe.” He shook his head and went back into the bedroom. Worried now, she followed him and watched as he started to pull on his jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me what Monica said about breathing problems?”

“Because I don’t—” She tore his shirt from his hands before he could pull it over his head. “Because I _can__’t_ keep living my life worried all the damn time, Jason. I’m going to have issues for the rest of my life because of what Ric did to me—”

“You’ve been out of the hospital for two weeks, Elizabeth.” He stabbed a finger in her direction, then pulled his hand into a fist, letting it drop to his side. _“Two weeks_. You almost died—”

“And I’m tired of hearing that! I _know_ I almost died—I was there. I couldn’t walk from my damn bed to the window without—” Elizabeth threw the shirt at him. “How long are you going to use that to keep me from doing anything? You want to lock me up, too?”

As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry,” she said almost immediately but it was too late. Jason pulled on his socks and sat on the edge of the bed to tug on his boots. “I didn’t mean that, Jason—”

“You think I’m using what happened to you as a weapon?” he demanded, looking at up at her. “That I’m trying to guilt you by reminding you—” He broke off, shook his head. “I knew you were sick. I could have forced you to see Monica. To get you help. But I wanted to find Carly. And you almost died. You—”

He stopped, took a deep breath. “You’d pressed that button, then collapsed. Your heart stopped beating right in front of me. You stopped breathing. And I just—you could have told me.”

“How could I tell you what Monica said when this is what happens every time I so much as _yawn_?” Elizabeth demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “I get what happened was awful, but I’m alive, and I’m _here_—”

His boots now on, Jason stood and found his phone where he’d tossed it after his aborted attempt to call 911. “I don’t want to argue with you,” he said.

“Because I might hyperventilate?” she all but snarled as she charged after him only to for her lungs to seize again as she stumbled, grabbing the kitchen counter to keep from sprawling on the ground. “Damn it,” she gasped, pressing a fist to her chest. “Damn it!”

Jason was back at her side, lowering her to the ground gently so she was resting with her back against the cabinets. He had his phone out again, but he didn’t call 911—he could hear him saying Monica’s name—

“It’s after midnight,” she tried to say, grasping weakly at his phone.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks. They’ll buzz you up downstairs. The door will be unlocked,” Jason said, ignoring her protests. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. “You either let her take a look at you or I’m calling an ambulance.”

Because she was too tired to argue, she just closed her eyes and let her head fall gently back against the wooden cabinet. Jason lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa before unlocking the door.

“I can’t live my life in fear,” she said softly, almost a murmur. “I can’t. I can’t keep letting it drive. I have to be in charge of my own life. And that means I can’t let your fears run my life, either.”

He said nothing as he sat on the end of the sofa, his head bowed. “Then don’t lie to me.”

“Jason—”

“If you had told me—”

“Monica never said I couldn’t have sex,” Elizabeth muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt—why did everything have to feel like it was on fire?

“But she said to take it easy, didn’t she?” Jason challenged. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “You didn’t tell me about the oxygen tank. What else don’t I know?”

“I’m not allowed to have a single thought to myself?” she shot back. “Isn’t that the line you threw at me when you lied to me?” He threw her an exasperated look which only made her angrier. “I get it. You watched me die. Well, _I__’m_ the one who actually died. I’m the one who couldn’t breathe when I woke up. I’m the one that was drugged. This didn’t happen to you—”

“I watched you die,” he said slowly, his voice sounding calmer than she knew he felt. “I watched you gasp and struggle for air, and with what you thought was your dying breath, try to tell me you loved me.” He looked at her, his eyes red and damp with tears of his own. “And then tonight, I watched you gasp and struggle for air again. And I thought—I thought it was another embolism. I thought you were going to die again. In front of me. They told me in the hospital that if you’d had another one, that was it. No more miracles.”

Some of her irritation faded then. She hadn’t—of course it must have looked— “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t think of what it looked like—I mean—to you.”

“I don’t want you to live in fear, Elizabeth. To always worry about what might happen with your health, but at the same time—” he shook his head. “I’m not sure I can stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Monica knocked on the door, then opened it, entering with a little black bag. Jason got to his feet and closed the door behind her. “I came as soon as I could—” She raised her brows at the two of them, both with red eyes, Elizabeth half-dressed, Jason fully clothed. “Jason said you had to use the tank?”

Elizabeth hesitated, then got to her feet. Jason steadied her with his hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry to drag you over here. I didn’t—I didn’t tell Jason I might need an oxygen mask.”

“Ah.” Monica studied her son for a long moment before looking back at Elizabeth. “Why don’t we go into your room and I’ll take your vitals. We’ll see if we have any reason to be worried.”

Leaving Jason behind in the living room, Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed as Monica took her temperature, her blood pressure, and then checked her heart. “I told you I’m fine—”

“Your blood pressure is up, but that’s probably to be expected.” Monica pursed her lips. “You didn’t tell him what I said about possibly finding yourself short of breath and needing some back up?”

“No,” Elizabeth said on a sigh. “And he found out—well, he found out the hard way. He thought I was having another embolism. I didn’t—I didn’t—I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t happen like that, but—” she shrugged. “He’s angry at me.”

“It’s hard,” Monica said as she started to repack her instruments. “I’ve always found the hardest part of being in a relationship is the sharing. Alan and I are terrible at it. Ninety percent of our problems have been trying to solve our problems on our own.” She wrinkled her nose. “The other ten percent was all the affairs.”

“I get that Jason was upset because of what happened to me—”

“He blames himself, Elizabeth. Even if it’s not true, even if it’s not fair, Jason blames himself for letting it to get to the point that you almost died.” Monica picked up the bag. “And right or wrong, he probably sees what happened tonight as also being his fault. That’s something the accident didn’t change about him. Even as a small child, Jason always took the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

She sighed. “Monica—”

“I want you to spend some time resting,” Monica said, cutting her off. “Not bed rest but taking it easy. I know your hearing is at the end of the week and the memorial service—” She pressed her lips together. “After that, we’ll talk about some ways to get you back on track, physically.” She hesitated. “Elizabeth, you’re young. You were healthy before Ric got his hands on you, but a pulmonary embolism—the cardiac arrest that followed—that’s not something you bounce back from in two or three weeks. Not completely.”

“I know. Thank you for coming over so late.”

A few minutes after Monica left, Jason returned to the bedroom and sat next to her on the bed. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—I wanted to be normal. To feel like my old self.” She looked at him and was relieved to see most of the anger had left his eyes. “I just wanted to be with you.”

Jason put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed out—”

“I never meant to put you through that again—to make you think about the embolism—”

“You need to tell me when things affect your health. I can’t—” He tipped her head up to her look at her, his hand framing her jaw. “I can’t lose you.”

“I promise. Will you stay? Just—to sleep, I mean. Monica wants me to take it easy this week, at least until the hearing.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, but she knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time they argued about her health or safety.

**General Hospital: Kevin** **’s Office**

Carly shifted in her seat, pressed her hand to her belly where the baby had decided to perform a somersault. “Like I said,” she told Kevin, “I feel like I’ve got my issues under control.”

“You know, just because this is our last scheduled session,” Kevin told her, “it doesn’t mean we can’t meet again if you need me.” He waited a long moment. “How are things with Sonny? You haven’t mentioned him today.”

“Things are…” she bit her lip and looked away, out the window. “I guess things are okay. I don’t know if you talk to my mother—”

“I haven’t spoken to Bobbie, no. You told me that Sonny had some problems while you were gone.” Kevin leaned forward at his desk, his elbows resting on the surface. “I was just wondering how that was affecting you. You’ve been trying to get back to normal, but—”

“Sonny’s struggling,” Carly admitted. “You know what happened to his first wife, Lily. Well, this brought it all back and he had a…” she paused. “Jason said it was a breakdown. That he was hallucinating and seeing Lily. That she was blaming him for what happened that night, for what happened to me. He hasn’t hallucinated since, but…sometimes he loses track of time.”

Kevin merely lifted a brow. “Loses track how?”

“Mama said Elizabeth told her she was talking with Sonny and he seemed to think it was last year. He remembered after a minute, but it’s not the first time…” She rubbed her belly again. “Sonny’s always had some issues, but Jason and I can usually handle it. It’s just been—we’re both exhausted right now. Jason’s worrying about Elizabeth, which is fine, I guess, since she almost died, and you know, I’ve got the boys—we haven’t been able to take care of him the way we used to. But we’re going to do better.”

“Okay,” Kevin drew out slowly. “Have you thought about—has he thought about—”

“Talking to someone? Mama tried, and I thought Sonny might actually do it, but he seems to think it’ll make him weak. He’s not the type to reach out for help, Dr. Collins.” Carly wrinkled her nose when the clock next to her turned to 11:50. “Thanks. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”

“Carly, don’t hesitate to reach out,” he said as she stood up. “I’m always here—”

“Thanks, but I’m not the one that needs the help.”

**PCPD: Archives**

Lucky grimaced as he pulled the ninth and final box from the shelves and put it on the table for Cruz and Dante to open and go through. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered as he took a seat and started to through their notes.

“We have two more cases in the park,” Cruz sighed, tossing his pencil to the table and leaning back in disgust. “_Two_ more cases of a young brunette raped in the park near a fountain. April 1999 and January 2000. Why the hell didn’t Vinnie see this?”

Dante smiled humorlessly. “Now you get why he’s my least favorite cousin. He probably didn’t even remember these cases even though he was the responding officer—” He looked at Lucky who ignored them both and started to look back at the files again. “What’s wrong?’

“The nine cases we pulled—” Lucky started turning around the other boxes on the cold shelves, but none of them had the SA notation for sexual assault. “None of them were Elizabeth’s.”

“I thought you said they got the guy,” Cruz said as he joined Lucky in his search. “Wouldn’t her case be in the closed room?”

“They couldn’t make the case, and her rape kit came back negative for any DNA,” Lucky said as he went to the other side of the shelving unit to check those boxes. “It was ruled inactive—which is the same thing as cold. I don’t understand why it’s not here.”

“Well, it’s the PCPD,” Dante said, climbing to his feet. “What do you want to bet some idiot thought that the guy’s confession meant the case was solved? I bet it got put in closed storage by accident.”

“Maybe.” But that didn’t make sense to Lucky. He’d seen a few cases get moved into cold storage since he’d started at the department, and the investigating officers usually moved it themselves. And Taggert had been the primary at the time Elizabeth’s case was ruled inactive.

He wouldn’t have made that mistake.

Dante and Cruz both followed Lucky to the next room which was twice the size as the cold storage. The rooms were organized chronologically, so they split up to find the 1998 cases. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, Lucky located the case boxes from that period—

And sure enough, Elizabeth’s name was scrawled across the side of a file box—and then Lucky saw something truly disturbing. The lid had been labeled in dark black marker CLOSED. Which, in PCPD parlance, meant solved. He shook his head and took the case to the table in the room. This really didn’t make sense.

Cruz took the lid as Lucky tugged it off the box, examining the notation. “I can see filing it here by mistake, but writing closed—”

“That’s not the only place it’s written,” Dante said. He lifted the top folder from the box—a thin manila folder with only a few documents. The original report and a few statements. There was a label on the front of the file proclaiming the case closed. Dante handed Lucky the investigator’s closing remarks.

“Taggert and Garcia worked this case,” Lucky murmured as he looked over the closing report. “But Mac wrote this up as closed with Baker in prison—” He shook his head. “Why—”

“So, it didn’t show up as an open case on the reports, maybe,” Cruz offered. “Maybe Taggert and Mac didn’t want—” He frowned. “Didn’t you say her rape kit came back negative?”

“Yeah—” Lucky’s mouth was dry as Cruz lifted out the plastic bag containing a red dress. He hadn’t seen that dress since the night he’d taken Elizabeth home, since she had put it back on after Bobbie took care of her, after she’d crawled out of the bushes—

“There’s no notation on it—” He reached for the folder in Dante’s hand. “Where’s the chain of evidence document—”

“The one that’s supposed to list every time it’s touched?” Dante found it and whistled. “Handed over to PCPD by Mercy Hospital, March 1998. That’s it.” He snorted. “Checked in by Vinnie, naturally. Asshole.”

“But here’s the test from the lab,” Cruz said. “They—how did they get a rape kit tested without—”

“Maybe they fucked up the chain of custody,” Dante offered. He glanced over the log Cruz handed him. “Forgot to write it—”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “Let’s pack it up and take it upstairs.” He swallowed hard. He didn’t like to think of Elizabeth’s case being messed up, but…Baker was the guy. He’d confessed. “We can talk to Taggert about it tomorrow. We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighed. “Yeah, we gotta be at the service soon.”

**Quartermaine: Patio**

Emily sighed, watching as Reginald wheeled Lila back into the house so she could lay down before the memorial service that evening. “She blames herself for not doing more for Brooke.” She turned back to Elizabeth and offered to pour her more lemonade.

“We all do,” Elizabeth said with a weary smile. Jason had stayed the rest of the night and had attempted to talk her into staying in bed all day, but she’d reminded him that Monica had only recommended taking it easy. There was nothing easier than sitting in the garden, drinking lemonade with Emily and Lila, so he’d backed down. Reluctantly.

“What’s wrong?” Emily stirred some more sugar in her glass. “And don’t ask — I can almost always tell. Especially when I’m actually paying attention.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I _may_ have overstated my recovery to Jason a bit. Your mother told me I could resume normal activities but nothing too strenuous and to keep an oxygen tank for emergencies. I didn’t tell Jason that second part. Last night…” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, let’s just say I attempted a strenuous activity.”

Emily arched a brow. “Oh, really? And lemme guess, instead of the afterglow, Jason got to watch you put on an oxygen mask. Sexy. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I wish it had been that simple—I couldn’t get the mask on right away, so what should have been a simple thing ended up with panic attack and a dose of hyperventilation. Jason thought I was having an embolism, which scared the crap out of him. He got mad at me. I got mad at him. Your mother had to come over after I had a second dose of hyperventilation while we were arguing.”

She sat back against the cushions. “It’s not like I don’t understand his reaction, especially once I realized he thought it was another PE, but is it going to be like this _every_ time we argue? He throws it in my face I almost died—”

“To be fair, he probably only brought it up because you were literally gasping for air,” Emily reminded her. “Liz, look, I am over the moon that you and my brother are together, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. You guys fell apart last year for very good reasons. None of that gets solved because you almost died, and he’s decided to stop wasting time.” She shrugged. “You _still_ need to trust each other. And I’m sorry, Liz, but you don’t get to hold it against him that he doesn’t want to do anything that might end up with you back in the hospital. That’s just normal human nature. Do you want to do something that puts him at risk?”

“No, but—” Elizabeth huffed. “You’re annoying.”

“That’s why everyone loves me,” Emily said with a sunny smile. It faded as she looked through the patio doors into the family room where Ned and Edward had entered. “It feels terrible to be home to bury Brooke. I don’t know how Ned is going to be able to deal with this.”

“He’ll have his family be his side,” Elizabeth told her, reaching across to squeeze her best friend’s hand. “That helps.”

**Kelly** **’s: Lucky’s Room**

Lucky scowled as he pulled the knot on his tie tight and grimaced in the mirror. He hated wearing a suit, and he really hated wearing a suit to the funeral of young woman.

He didn’t know if Brooke had committed suicide—if she’d meant to take the overdose of pills that had killed her. A lot of his memories of Elizabeth were still vague and dim, his swirling with bits and pieces that didn’t always make sense.

But being around this case, looking over her original statement and the one he’d given Dara Jensen and Detective Garcia…so many pieces were starting to fit together like a puzzle. And he remembered Elizabeth’s face as she’d crawled out of the bushes, the way her voice had trembled as she denied what happened, refused to let him do much more than bring his aunt to her.

He remembered now that he used to wish he’d forced to go to the cops that night, that if he’d called 911 and they’d taken care of then, before she’d showered—

But knowing Brooke, seeing what she’d gone through, what he knew the other victims this year had dealt with—

He’d told Dillon Quartermaine that he’d taken his cue from Elizabeth, and Lucky was desperately grateful he’d done so. She’d made it through the darkness, and despite all the pain and loss that had come later, he was glad he’d been there for her.

He heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” Lucky called as he grimaced at his tie, undoing the knot and attempting it again. In the mirror, he saw Kelsey step in and close the door behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her face against his back. “I thought we could drive over to the memorial together. Scott’s going with Bobbie.”

Lucky covered her hands with his own, then turned to face her. “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“No.” Kelsey sighed, then walked away to sit on the edge of his bed. “Mac called before I left the office. You found two more case files in the archives?”

Lucky frowned. “No—I mean, yeah, but we found three.” He pulled out his desk chair and sat on it backwards, resting his elbow on the back of the chair. “Taggert was gone for the day when we got done, so I gave the report to Mac—we pulled three.” He hesitated. “Which cases did he tell you about?”

“Veronica Logan and Theresa Lopez—” Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “Three? Which one is missing—” She shook her head. “This is weird. This is the second time the number of cases have been wrong. Before Brooke was attacked, Taggert told Scott he had twelve untested rape kits. Nine in storage, three open—Watson, Norton, and Morris. But when Scott asked Mac, Mac told him there was fourteen. Brooke would have made it thirteen.”

“And now Mac only passed on two cases. You know—the third case was Elizabeth’s.”

“Elizabeth Webber?” Kelsey repeated. “Your ex? But I thought you said they got the guy—”

“He confessed, but they couldn’t make the case. Taggert told Elizabeth he was moving her case to cold storage, and a few weeks later, Mac told her that her rape kit had come back negative.” He told her about finding the case in the closed storage with no evidence that her evidence had ever been sent to the lab.

“Her dress was in the box?” She scowled. “Why isn’t it in Evidence? With everything else? Damn it—wait, why did you pull her case?”

“Because I thought—” Lucky exhaled slowly. “I was sure that Tom Baker was the guy. He confessed. I mean, who does that, right? And he didn’t deny it. Not in the studio that day. But I read over Brooke’s statement. You remember you told me that Brooke said the guy told her to keep quiet—”

“Yeah—”

“’Not a word.’ That’s what Brooke remembered.”

Kelsey stared at him for a long moment. “And you—that’s what Elizabeth’s attacker said to her, isn’t it? That’s what you’re going to tell me.”

“Some of it doesn’t fit,” Lucky admitted. “He didn’t—I mean, he raped her, but he didn’t beat her. She was able to leave the park on her own. With me. She had bruises, scratches. But she wasn’t like the others. And I don’t know about the hair. She didn’t remember a lot of details at first. But it was in the park, it was at a fountain—it was after the movies. At night. With a guy who said not a word.”

Kelsey exhaled slowly. “And for some reason, this case was put into cold storage, the evidence mishandled, and not turned over to the DA’s office with the progress report. I’m guessing Mac didn’t tell you he was only sending over two of the cases?”

“No—” Lucky shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, Kelse.”

“On the one hand, if her case was mishandled, I can see Mac not wanting it to come to light. She still has time to file suit against the city for the domestic assault last month. But…” Kelsey shook her head. “I don’t know. You said you were teenagers—”

“Valentine’s Day. 1998.”

“Valentine’s—” Kelsey got to her feet. “Okay. Okay.” She laced her fingers together as she started to pace. “Okay. I can’t accuse the commissioner of negligence. And neither can you. We’re both rookies. No one is going to take us seriously, but—” She turned. “Taggert—he’ll get your report. I’ll talk to Scott. We’ll get Elizabeth’s case re-opened. And send the kit over to the lab with the others. Honestly, Lucky—”

“We need more,” he finished. He ran his hands down her arms. “I get it. I want to handle Elizabeth’s case right. And there might not be any physical evidence to link her to the others. She didn’t even turn over the dress for a month. She showered—”

“She did what she needed to do to get through it.” Kelsey looked at him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Lucky. I promise. Because if she was raped by the same man five years ago, if those other two cases are linked—then this just got a lot worse. And after what happened with Brooke, I didn’t think that was possible.”

**Quartermaine Estate: Foyer**

The service, held first at the Queen of Angels church, followed by a reception in the Quartermaine garden, was somber. Ned sat in the first row, with Jax and Alexis on either side of him, Dillon next to Alexis. Lois, true to her word, didn’t show.

Afterward, he’d driven back to the estate with his grandparents and had calmly accepted the condolences and sympathy from everyone who offered it. Almost no one in Port Charles had known his daughter, but that never stopped the people of the town from trying to find any way to get into the Quartermaine family’s good graces.

Felicia and her girls had offered their sympathies, but Ned had been grateful Mac had stayed home. The only people from PCPD he wanted to see were Dante Falconieri and his friends. Even Taggert had had the decency to stay away. If Floyd had tried to show up at the church, Ned—

Well, Ned wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.

After almost an hour, Ned slipped away from everyone else and went into the foyer to take a break. He was sitting on a chair, tucked away behind the stairwell when he heard the family room door open.

“I told you, Jason, I’ll be fine. I’m just—I’m going to lay down upstairs for a little while—no—”

He rose to his feet when the door closed as Elizabeth rolled her eyes and slowly crossed the foyer. She saw him just as she stepped onto the stairs. “Oh. Ned, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you all right? I heard you tell Jason you needed to lay down—” Ned stepped towards her, a hand extended as if to offer it to her.

“I had an issue last night, but I’m fine. Monica is just after me to take it easy and avoid stressing my body out. When I get tired, I’m supposed to stop and lay down.” She sighed, pressed a fist to her chest. “With the hearing at the end of the week, I’m trying to conserve my energy. Emily offered her room—anyway, I’m sorry to bother you—”

“You’re not. I just—” He hesitated, dragged a hand through his hair, then let it rest on the back of his neck for a moment before dropping it to his side. “I haven’t talked to you since—since—” He couldn’t say it.

She nodded. “Since,” she repeated softly. “I know I said it earlier, but I’m _so_ sorry, Ned.”

“Thank you for—” He exhaled slowly. “You said she left you a voicemail. I never—what did she say?”

“Oh…Ned—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t let that in your head, you know? It—” She pressed her lips together. “She sounded upset. Her words were slurred. I think she’d already taken the pills. She said it was better when everyone didn’t know. She wished no one knew. And then the call ended.”

“One day, I might want to listen to it,” he murmured. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“I’ll make sure I get it saved. Ned—”

“Don’t—don’t blame yourself. I’m glad Brooke reached out to you.” His throat tightened as he looked away. “If she’d already taken the pills, it was probably already too late by the time she did. I could have done more for her. And I’ll always regret not being a better father, but at the end of the day, whatever you and I could have done for her—it doesn’t change the fact that she was—”

He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t force the word out of her lips.

“Ned—”

“So, we need to focus on that. That some animal is attacking girls, and the police let them get away with it. He took my daughter away from us, and the PCPD—Floyd—they’re responsible for what happened to her. The same way they’re responsible for what happened to you.”

“Ned—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Revenge sounds good. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But at the end of the day, it won’t change what happened—”

“No, but it—” He took a deep breath. “I can’t help my daughter. But I can stop it from happening again. I _will_ stop it. My daughter is going to be the last victim. One way or another.”


	15. Chapter Thirty-Four

_Forgive, sounds good_  
_Forget, I'm not sure I could_  
_They say time heals everything_  
_But I'm still waiting_  
_I'm through with doubt_  
_There's nothing left for me to figure out_  
_I've paid a price, and I'll keep paying_  
\- Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks

* * *

_Wednesday, July 23, 2003_

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott** **’s Office**

Elizabeth flashed Carly a hesitant smile as she stepped into the lobby of Scott’s office and found the pregnant blonde occupying one of the other seats. Scott’s secretary told them both it would be a minute, then stepped out into the hallway.

“Do you know why Scott called us?” Elizabeth asked as she sat next to Carly. “He wouldn’t say over the phone.”

Carly grimaced, shifted in her seat. “No. Just that it was about the case. I thought maybe he wanted to go over my statement…but now that you’re here…” She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s more serious than that.”

God, she hoped nothing had gone wrong with the case. Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. Her protection hearing was at the end of the week and she wasn’t convinced that the same judge that had let Ric within five feet of her medical care after the embolism would renew the protection order, much less make it permanent.

If the case went south and her protection order expired…

“Hey, sorry to make you guys wait.” Scott gestured for them to go into his office, even helping Carly get to her feet. “How are you feeling today?”

“Just tired,” Carly admitted warily as she lowered herself into a seat at Scott’s conference table. Elizabeth took the seat next to her as Scott closed the door. “What’s up? Did something go wrong with the case?”

“No. It’s moving slow, but it’s moving. We have a preliminary trial date set for November, but I might push that out or Lansing might ask to move it up. We should know in a few weeks for sure.” Scott sat across from them. “I’ve been going over the medical records and your initial statements, and well, last week it occurred it me exactly what it means for Lansing to represent himself.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Wait, would _he_ be the one cross-examining us?”

“_How_ is that allowed? Letting the defendant near the victims?” Carly demanded. “Why wouldn’t the judge make him have someone else do it—”

“If Lansing weren’t an attorney, the judge would have assigned one to his case to advise him. I might have been able to petition for the other guy to do the questioning, but…” Scott shrugged. “I can’t take this to trial without putting you both on the stand, and you needed to know what that meant.”

Elizabeth looked at Carly, alarmed at her pasty complexion. “Carly, are you—”

“I feel sick,” she muttered, pressing her hand to her abdomen. “You mean he gets to stand in front of me and call me a liar about what he did? He gets to accuse Liz to her face, saying that it was her idea?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I haven’t even seen him since he was arrested the first time.” After he’d thrown her around their living room and tried to attack her over that _Sun_ article. “But I didn’t—that means he’s probably representing himself in family court. Didn’t he have a lawyer at that first hearing? Jason said—”

“He fired him. I don’t know what Lansing is thinking, but yeah, I think maybe he is going to be do the presentation on Friday. Which means he’ll be cross-examining you about the assault and—” Scott sighed. “That’s why I asked you both to come in. We got a strong case. And Taggert took this case seriously. Even when your kidnapping veered away from Lansing, Carly, he did everything right, paperwork wise. There’s no technicalities. No corners cut. With the two of you testifying, along with the medical evidence of your overdose and embolism, Elizabeth, I’m gonna put him away for the rest of his natural life.”

“Okay…” Carly tipped her head. “Are you just trying to reassure us?”

“The thing is…reading the statements, looking at the evidence…the two of you have been through hell. And it was bad enough when it was me and some other guy making you relive it. But I don’t know if I feel comfortable asking you to do it when Lansing is the other guy. He’s looking at twenty-five to life on two charges—the kidnapping and the attempted murder. Another ten on the assault earlier that day, Elizabeth. If he were found guilty of all three and sentenced consecutively, that’s sixty years before he gets to think about parole. But if he were to plead guilty—if we avoided a trial—”

Elizabeth blinked, looked at Carly whose eyes were wide. “But this is good publicity for you, Scott. I know how hard you’ve worked for us. I mean, you got those contempt charges when it looked like the judge might let Ric win my power of attorney—”

“Yeah, I mean, don’t _you_ take a hit if you plead it down?” Carly asked. Her color had returned.

“Maybe,” Scott admitted. “If we go that route, I mean, it’d be nice if you two would release a statement saying we decided it together, but I just—” He shook his head. “The PCPD has done enough damage here, and my office wasn’t much better. We knew who kidnapped you that first night, Carly. We knew he was probably drugging you, Elizabeth. And we didn’t do enough. I can’t ask either of you to put your lives on hold for six more months, at best, and then let that scumbag torture you on the stand.”

“What would you offer him?” Elizabeth asked softly. “Not that—I just want to know. Because I really like the idea of him rotting away in prison.”

“Yeah, in a small cell with other people bringing him food and never seeing the light of day,” Carly muttered. “If we could swing solitary confinement, that’d be _great_—”

“Well, I’d open with twenty-five to life on the kidnapping and ten for assault. Basically, cut that sixty years almost in half, and see where the negotiations go from there.”

“You would drop the attempted murder charge,” Elizabeth murmured. She rubbed her chest, still remembering the pain and pressure before the embolism. “What about the overdose?”

“We have a little less evidence there without the overall murder charge.” Scott grimaced. “I don’t love it, but it’s a place to open the bargaining.”

“What’s the bottom line, then?” Carly raised her brows. “What’s the least you’d take before you walked away? If I’m giving up the idea of putting him away for sixty years, then I wanna know what we might expect—”

“I’d probably drop the negotiations if we got less than fifteen to life. I think fifteen is rock bottom, and he knows it. He’d probably accept it.”

“Fifteen years,” Elizabeth murmured. He’d be gone, out of their lives for fifteen years. Long enough to forget him, maybe. “I don’t know.”

“You know what? Let’s revisit this after the hearing on Friday.” Carly looked at Elizabeth. “I might have to testify. Your lawyer asked me to, and it’ll be…it’ll be a test run.” She looked back at Scott. “I get what you’re trying to do, Scott. And I appreciate it. Is there any other reason you might not want to go to trial? Is it _just_ us?”

Scott pressed his lips together. “I think your mother might have told you that Lansing has subpoenaed your medical records and Elizabeth’s. Once he saw the referrals to therapists, he also asked for Kevin and Gail’s records—”

“Wait, what?” Carly demanded, leaning forward as Elizabeth’s stomach pitched. “He can’t have those—”

“I’m asking for the judge to appoint a special master to make that distinction, but…anything that goes to credibility…the thing is, Carly…”

“It wasn’t just my records he asked for,” Carly muttered, pressing a hand to her face. “Well, we’re in luck—Sonny’s never talked to a—” She scowled. “Scott, don’t tell me you’re turning over my mother’s statement—”

“She hasn’t officially made one. I’m dancing on an ethical line there because I know she’s got information that I haven’t asked for. But the last thing I want to do is piss Bobbie off or make this worse. I’m filing an injunction—Sonny was tangential at best to your rescue. The ultimate information came from the security footage and the real estate agent. The fact that Sonny called Jason isn’t important. I can call anyone else who watched that video.”

“But a deal would keep all of that off the table,” Elizabeth said slowly. She sighed. “Carly’s right. I think we should revisit this after the hearing.”

A hearing where it would be Ric questioning her instead of some random lawyer. God help them all.

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Taggert stormed into Mac’s office and threw a file down on his desk. With some trepidation, Mac looked down and saw the name Webber, Elizabeth scrawled on the tab, along with a notation that the case had been closed.

“You know where that was?” Taggert demanded. “You wanna _know _where the rookies found this?” He leaned over Mac’s desk, planting his hands on the edge. “Not in cold storage. In the closed archives.”

“Taggert—”

“Falconieri and Rodriguez thought it was a mistake—you know, there was a confession, maybe the cop who put away just got it wrong. I could tell Spencer didn’t buy it, and you know why? Because he knows _I__’m_ the one that put that case on the inactive list.” Taggert bared his teeth as he growled. “Because I _personally_ walked that fucking box down to cold storage myself and put it on a shelf. What the hell happened to her case, Mac?”

Mac slowly got to his feet. “It must have been a mistake,” he said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. “Taggert—”

“The dress you told me you sent to testing? It’s still in the fucking box. It wasn’t supposed to be in there. It wasn’t when I walked that box down there. It was in in the evidence locker, and what’s worse—it hasn’t been touched since we checked it into evidence in March of 1998. You falsified a lab report.” Taggert shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but—”

“I’ll look into it—”

“Spencer gave you a report with her case listed as one that should be reopened and pulled. And you edited that report before it went to the DA—you took the Webber case off the list—What the hell—”

“Her case has another suspect—it would be harder to link it—” Mac shook his head. “I was going to talk to you about it today. As for why it wasn’t in cold storage, I don’t know. I’ll look into it,” he repeated.

“Don’t bother.” Taggert grabbed the file back from Mac’s desk. “From now on, only _my_ team comes near these cases. And I’m reopening the Webber case.” He arched a brow at his boss. “Anything you want to tell me before I dig deeper? Because if Baker isn’t the guy, and we could have known that five years ago—”

“Taggert—”

“Do you know how close we are to running out time on the statute because you didn’t process her fucking kit?” Taggert snarled. “We got five years from the date she turns eighteen. We got until November 1 _this_ year to get, at least, a DNA profile. And the only reason we got a break is the poor kid was sixteen when the whole thing happened. If she’d been an adult, we’d be out of luck.” He shook his head. “This is bullshit.”

He stormed back out the way he’d come, and Mac sat down at his desk, staring blindly at the blotter in front of him. God help him, he’d _really_ thought Tom Baker had raped Elizabeth Webber. He hadn’t thought they’d get any DNA running her dress since it had been turned over to the hospital several days after her rape—so he’d gone along with Floyd, thinking that it might be their best bet to make sure Baker did time for something.

But if Baker had been innocent of the rape—

If Elizabeth’s rapist had continued his rampage and raped six more girls—including Brooke Lynn—

How was Mac ever going to live with himself?

**Harborview Towers: Lobby**

Elizabeth kept her expression carefully blank as her elevator was boarded just before the doors closed. Courtney Matthews hesitated before crossing the threshold but eventually stepped into the elevator and then stood in the opposite corner.

She looked at the button lit up on the panel, then stared straight ahead as the doors closed and the car began its ascent. “I didn’t think Jason was staying here these days. Didn’t he take a room at Jake’s?”

Elizabeth bit her lip before answering. “He did, but he had a meeting he couldn’t take at the warehouse.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. What to say to the woman that had once been engaged to your boyfriend? Especially the woman who had been…basically jilted at the altar even though the ceremony had actually been canceled because of Carly’s kidnapping, not because Jason had left Courtney for Elizabeth.

The elevator climbed slowly to the penthouse level as Elizabeth dug her fingers tightly into the strap of her purse.

“I can’t stop being angry at you,” Courtney finally said as the elevator reached the eighth floor. “I know you weren’t having an affair before Jason broke the engagement, but I still can’t seem to make myself any less angry or not hate you. Because if you’d just…” She shook her head with a rueful laugh. “If you hadn’t believed him, if you hadn’t helped to find Carly—God, maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry with _me_.”

“Courtney—”

“But no. You had to go and prove how much more well-suited you are for his life than I am. I loved him, Elizabeth. That wasn’t a lie.”

“I didn’t think it was—”

“And I was _humiliated_ when he left me. When those tabloids said he was at your house every day—you were calling him, checking in, and damn you, he looked forward to those calls—” Her voice broke as the elevator opened on their floor.

Courtney stepped off, started for Sonny and Carly’s penthouse but then whirled around to face her. “He never loved me. I get it now, but you know what _should_ worry you, Elizabeth? How easy it was for him to lie about it. He lied to me, he lied to you, but he lied to himself—” She shook her head. “It should worry you that he could stop giving a damn about me like he flipped a switch in his head. Maybe the doctors were right—maybe he really _is_ damaged—”

“Stop—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “You’re hurt. And none of us look great in this situation. Yes, Jason and I are together now. And yes, we’ve been together almost since you two broke up. But _you_ were _my_ friend and you went after him—”

“He sure didn’t run away,” Courtney snapped. “I went after him, but he didn’t seem to mind it.” She smirked. “We were sleeping together by Christmas. Did you know that?”

“Did you know he and I nearly got back together that November?” Elizabeth said softly, not even a little threatened by Courtney’s revelation. After all, hadn’t she run away from Jason? Run to Lucky? Run to Zander, to Ric?

Wasn’t Jason allowed to be lonely?

Courtney pressed her lips together. “So, what—I was nothing more than a rebound—”

“That’s not for me to answer, Courtney. Jason and I had our problems, and we both ran from them. We’re really good at running, and we’ve been doing it for years. I’m sorry you were hurt. I know Jason cared about you—”

Courtney threw up her hands as if to ward off Elizabeth’s empathy. “Don’t bother trying to make yourself look good. He was engaged to me and that didn’t seem to bother you at all.”

“And he had broken up with you before anything happened. You know that Courtney. You know he broke up with you before you took Michael to the island. Before I got sick. And yeah, he broke up with you in part because of me, but it was because of you, too. I believed Ric had kidnapped Carly, and I believed he was drugging me. I let Jason search my home. I let him install cameras and surveillance. You called the cops who searched his home.”

“I called the cops because of Carly—”

“And that’s why Jason broke up with you. Because you don’t want to live in a world where your best friend gets kidnapped and you can’t call the police as a first choice—”

“I just—” Courtney’s voice broke. “I just thought if Jason could call the cops last year, why couldn’t I? Why was it okay for him to work with Taggert for you and _not_ Carly?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Courtney—”

“Just save it. You’ve got all the answers, don’t you? You and Jason are this great, epic love story and people like me are just the obstacles on the road to your true love,” she spat out. “Lucky, me, Zander—we’re just roadkill.”

She spun around and slammed the penthouse door. Belatedly, Elizabeth realized that in the tiny hallway outside of the Corinthos penthouse, stood poor Max Giambetti, Sonny’s guard when the penthouse was occupied.

“Miss Webber,” Max said blandly. He carefully kept his eyes forward. “Nice to see you looking so well.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Elizabeth muttered before walking over to Jason’s penthouse. She knocked lightly, hoping she wasn’t interrupting his meeting.

Jason pulled open the door and she bit her lip, finding Bernie, their business manager, sitting on the sofa. “Oh, hey, I thought you’d be done by now—”

“We’re just talking about regular business now,” he told her, catching her elbow as Elizabeth turned to leave. “And we’re almost done.” He kissed her, his hand sliding from her elbow to her wrist. “Your pulse is racing,” he said, drawing back, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

She very nearly rolled her eyes, but she accepted that it was going to take longer than three weeks for Jason to stop monitoring every little change in her health. “Yeah. It’s just been a long morning. I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“I’ll just leave these contracts here for you,” Bernie said as he slid the last of his paperwork into his briefcase. “We really were done, Miss Webber.” He got to his feet. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

When he’d left, Elizabeth sighed and dropped her purse on Jason’s desk. “Now I know why you never come here anymore. I ran into Courtney on the elevator.”

“I just thought it would be better if I gave her some space until she figures out what to do about…” Jason shrugged, sitting on the arm of his sofa. “I mean, your condo is good, and the security upgrade is okay but—”

“It’s not quite the bulletproof fortress this place is,” Elizabeth finished. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him again. “It’s okay. It’s awkward, and she has every right to be angry at us both. I mean, at least _you_ didn’t actually marry a sociopath who tried to kill you.”

Jason grimaced and drew her in more closely against him. “I hate that I hurt her, but if I had gone through with it just because I didn’t want to be a bad guy or because she’s Sonny’s sister, it would have been worse.”

“She did say something interesting that I wanted to ask you about,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head to the side, her fingers playing the hair at nape of his neck. “She said she thought it would be okay to call the police because you’d worked with Taggert for me.”

Jason frowned. “Yeah. I told you about it in the hospital, remember?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth smiled at him. “But we were talking about something else and I never really thought about it after that. I just…I wish I had known, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Jason, half the problems we had last summer was because neither one of us was being all that up front about how we felt. If I knew you’d cooperated with the police—_Taggert _specifically—to find me, let me tell you, I wouldn’t have had any doubts in my mind about how you felt.”

“I was desperate,” Jason admitted. “Courtney probably knows because of AJ. I went to the Quartermaines—Edward blackmailed me into dinner—”

“Cooperation with Taggert _and_ dinner at the Quartermaines?” Elizabeth smirked. “That’s a declaration of love right there. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important,” he said with a shrug. “We found you. You were alive.” And that was true—Jason wasn’t the kind of guy to broadcast anything that might put him in the position of being a hero. He’d done what he’d done to find her, and once he had, he probably hadn’t thought about it again. “Does it really matter?”

“No, but it’s nice to know.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s a lie. Yeah, it matters. Because I was a _mess_ last summer. I thought we were going somewhere, but you kept leaving for Sonny and Carly, and then not making a move—I thought I was imagining things and I made…choices based on that. But knowing what you went through to find me—I wasn’t imagining any of it.”

“I wish I could have handled everything better. Been more honest with you.” He sighed. “But I guess I wasn’t ready to do that yet.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not your fault I have this thing about people who stay…” She shook her head. “Anyway. I came over to tell you about my meeting with Scott.”

Jason frowned at the change in topic, but he allowed it. He straightened, and she stepped back. “What happened at the meeting? I found out after you left that Carly got called there, too.”

“Yeah, he wanted to talk to us about the case.” Elizabeth dropped onto the sofa with a huff. “Ric is going to be representing himself at the trial—and probably at the hearing on Friday.”

Jason scowled, taking a seat next to her, turning to face her slightly. “What does that mean? Why does that change the case?”

“It doesn’t, but Scott wanted to make sure Carly and I understood that a trial where Ric is his own attorney means he’ll be questioning us.”

“What? Can’t he stop that—”

“Not really. Which also means he’ll be questioning us on Friday. Scott…isn’t sure he wants to put us through that. He said the case is rock solid, but…” Elizabeth shrugged and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “It doesn’t mean it won’t suck. Particularly since Ric subpoenaed records from Kevin and Gail. Scott’s trying to keep that access limited, but—” She looked at Jason with some trepidation. “Ric also subpoenaed Sonny’s medical records.”

Jason winced. “Well, there’s nothing to find in the records, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things Ric could do.” He hesitated. “Are you okay…with testifying?”

“Well, that’s the thing. Scott offered—he thinks if he drops the attempted murder charges, he could get Ric to plead to just the kidnapping.”

“But that’s almost your entire case,” Jason told her. “And isn’t the kidnapping only twenty-five years? That’s cutting it in half—Damn Baldwin—”

“The whole point of a plea deal is to make it attractive enough for Ric to take it. My case isn’t as solid on its own, and there’s still a chance Ric could ask for a severance. And then it’s just my medical records and Carly. Which means—”

“You’d have to testify a third time—” Jason shook his head. “So, Baldwin wants to plead it out—”

“He could probably get life without parole in a trial, Jason. Carly’s case is really strong. If it went to trial—Ric would get put away for probably the rest of his life. Baldwin isn’t asking because of the strength of the case. I _honestly_ think he wants to spare us.”

“He’s close to Bobbie,” Jason admitted. “He never did go after us for search warrants on the warehouse—And he got himself charged with contempt over your case.” He hesitated. “Is that what you want? To avoid testifying?”

“Well, Diane isn’t really that hopeful that we’ll get the protection order renewed on Friday,” Elizabeth admitted. “I talked to her after the meeting with Scott. She thinks Ric is going to go after you. And since the judge is the same guy who gave Ric that injunction—”

“He’ll paint himself as the wronged husband with an adulterous wife who is now public with the guy from the papers.” Jason exhaled slowly. “What about Carly?”

“She said she’d testify, but honestly, Jason, I don’t know if I want to go through with testifying at the hearing at all. Ric is in Crimson Point. Carly and I are surrounded by guards. If I testify at that hearing, it’s going to be about you and me, not what Ric did to me.”

He put an arm around her and drew her in closer. “What do you want to do about the trial?”

“Diane said Ric won’t be able to use you against me the same way. Not with Carly’s case at the same time. And all of the medical experts and witnesses can testify—” She hesitated. “We’ll go to the hearing, but I’m not going to push the order hard. I want to testify at the trial, though. I want to go to trial. I mean, if Carly doesn’t want to, that’s okay with me. And we can handle it that way, but…” She took his other hand and laced their fingers together. “I know…we don’t really talk much about what’s going to happen to Ric after he’s sentenced. I mean, once he’s in jail.”

“Elizabeth—”

“But Carly and I were talking about how long he’d be in jail, and I realized…I _want_ him to rot in prison. I want him to be locked away, in a cell.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I get there may be reasons I can’t…that it can’t happen that way, but if there’s a way that it can…”

He was quiet for a long moment, but then nodded. “If that’s what you need—if that’s what Carly needs, then that’s what will happen.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“This time, I’m listening to you,” he cut in. “And if this is something you need to get past this, that’s what matters to me. How I feel about him? Not gonna change if he’s dead.” He winced, as if the blunt statement had gone too far. “Anyway—”

“Thank you,” she said. She turned slightly to slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Sonny waited until after dinner had been cleaned up and they’d put Michael down to bed that night before asking Carly about her meeting. She had remained at the dinner table, going over some paperwork from the club and didn’t notice at first when he’d come down from tucking Michael in.

He pulled out the chair across from her, sat in it, but didn’t pull himself to the table, angling the chair slightly out towards the rest of the room. “Are you ready to tell me what happened in the meeting today?”

Carly looked up at him, sighed, and put down her paperwork. She didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t say anything when you got home,” Sonny continued. “What happened? It can’t be that bad, Carly. If they’d dropped the charges or anything else ridiculous, I’d know. It’d be all over the news.”

She sighed. “No, it’s not bad news. I just…I knew it would be an argument, Sonny. And I just…” Her brown eyes, so often lit with humor or mischief, were dull now. Fatigued.

“He called me…and asked Elizabeth to come in as well to…ask us how we wanted this to happen.” She grimaced. “The trial, I mean.”

Sonny tilted his head. “What do you mean? You’ll testify, Ric will go to jail.” Where he would meet with a very much deserved _accident._

“Yeah, well, Scott is taking into consideration that Ric is defending himself. Which means when I testify, when Elizabeth testifies…it’s him we face. Not some lawyer I don’t know. But the man who actually…” She looked away.

Rage, always simmering beneath the surface, boiled over, but Sonny kept his face calm. His voice even. “I hadn’t…I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“I guess we hadn’t either. As bad as it will be for me, I didn’t…I didn’t spend time with Ric the way Elizabeth did,” Carly admitted. “He doesn’t know the buttons to push. He didn’t spend all those months manipulating me. He’s going to get into that courtroom and he’s going to blame it on the miscarriage, and God, Sonny, I’ve lost a child. All I can think about is her on the stand having to deal with that, and I get sick to my stomach. I don’t want to face him. I don’t want to look at him. And I don’t want Elizabeth to do it either.”

“And Baldwin is going to force you do it?” Sonny demanded. “Can’t he just find a way to do this without you?”

“He has,” Carly said. “That’s why he called us in. Ric also subpoenaed our therapist’s records.” Her eyes shifted away for a moment before returning to him. “He suggested maybe he could plead Ric out. Avoid a trial.”

A deal would be good. Faster. Sonny could arrange for that accident by the end of the year. “Why would you think this would be an argument?”

“Because I can practically see what you’re thinking right now. A deal gets this over faster, and Ric can die in prison.”

Sonny shrugged slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t? Trial or now. He doesn’t get to live, Carly. Kidnapping you. Locking you in the room. Nearly killing Elizabeth. We’re done with him—” He stopped. “Exactly what is it that you think is supposed to happen?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to think about it. But now…we asked Scott for time. To get through the hearing on Friday…but…” Carly met his eyes. “I think I _have_ to testify, Sonny. I have to get on the stand and face him. I don’t think I’m going to get past this unless I do.”

“Okay, I can see that. I don’t like it, but I can see it. And if I know Elizabeth at all, I figure she’ll probably come to the same conclusion. Or I hope so. I think you’re right. I think it’ll be good for both of you to face that bastard. Put him behind you.” Sonny frowned. “What are we arguing about then—” He stopped. “No.”

“I _also_ want him to rot in prison,” Carly murmured. “So that I can go see him once in a while. See him in that ugly prison clothing. Without his manicures. Without his fancy clothing. I want to see him _broken_. And I want to see it repeatedly. He wanted me to live in that box until I had my baby, and then he was going to kill me. I want him to live every day in a small box until he goes mad, and I want him to always remember who put him there. I want him to rot away slowly, Sonny.” She paused. “I don’t want you to do anything.”

The image she painted was seductive and he was nearly swayed. But every moment Ric was alive was a moment that son of bitch hadn’t earned. He’d signed his death warrant and leaving him alive at this point would be a sign of weakness Sonny simply couldn’t afford.

“I get why you want that,” he said slowly. “But I can’t do it. He needs to die, Carly. And I need to be the one to do it.”

“Sonny—”

“Look, this happened to you. And it happened to Elizabeth. Don’t think Jason and I don’t know that. That we don’t grieve for all we could have done to stop it. To keep you from hurting, but I promise you he wants Ric’s blood as much as I do.”

“Sonny—”

“No, no. This happened to you. And it should be about you,” Sonny agreed. “And I get that. But, damn it, Carly, _I_ went through it, too.” And now his voice cracked. He looked away. “Not knowing if you were still alive—I—I fell apart, Carly. I know that, and this—this is how I can make it right. Jason, Bobbie, and Elizabeth ran themselves ragged trying to find you, tearing that house apart—”

While he had babbled like an idiot, hallucinating back here in the penthouse, wallowing in own self-pity. No—this was _his_ chance to finally do something right. Something he should have done months ago when Ric had showed his true colors. He’d let the bastard live to torture his family.

He pushed away from the table, stood. “This happened to you, and it happened to Elizabeth. But we went through it, too. Testify. Face the demons. We can talk about how long I’ll wait. A year, two. You can visit him, see him begin to rot. But that’s all I can give you.”

Carly exhaled slowly. Also stood. “I would never pretend that you and Jason, that my mother and Courtney—that there wasn’t suffering. Worry. Terror. I get that. But you were all bystanders. Collateral damage.”

She picked up her purse, looped the strap over her shoulder and edged around the table, away from Sonny. Toward the door.

“I don’t know what Elizabeth wants to do,” Carly said. “And that’s something she and I will decide, but you know what? _She and I_ will decide, and I can promise you, Sonny, that when Elizabeth tells Jason how she wants to handle it, he’ll listen to her. That’s how much he loves her. I just wish I could say the same.”

“Damn it, Carly—”

“I’m going to talk to my mother. We’ll—” Carly stopped at the door. “You’re angry now,” she said gently. “And the thought of letting Ric rot in prison probably never crossed your mind. So, we’ll talk about this later.”

“Wait—”

But she had already slipped out the door, and to be quite honest, Sonny wasn’t sure what he would have said if she’d turned back.


	16. Chapter Thirty-Five

_I’m tired of being what you want me to be_   
_Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface_   
_I don_ _’t know what you’re expecting of me_   
_Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes_   
_Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow_

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you_  
_\- _Numb, Linkin Park

* * *

_Friday, July 25, 2003_

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

Bobbie stirred sugar into her coffee and grimaced as she looked at her watch. “Elizabeth’s hearing starts in two hours. I wonder if she’ll change her mind.”

“She seemed pretty sure when she called yesterday.” Carly sighed. “She feels the same way I do about the trial, Mama. She told me that she and Jason talked about it, and we’re on the same page.”

“And Sonny is the odd man out,” Bobbie said, with a lift of her brows. “Well, he’s never been one to trust the police. I’m surprised Jason is going along with it—but—” She pursed her lips. “Maybe not. If Elizabeth said this is what she needs—”

“I knew he’d listen to her on this. Just like I know he’d have agreed to it if it was just me. It’s just…” Carly shook her head. “I understand why Sonny…I get it. But I’m kind of tired of this attitude he has—Courtney has a little bit of it, too. This—I _get_ how awful that week must have been for the people looking for me. I mean, I watched Elizabeth and Jason—I watched you when you came over. And I know Sonny had a breakdown. I know all of that, but at the same time—is it wrong to be angry that everyone is treating _my_ trauma like it happened to them personally?”

“No—”

“I mean, _I__’m_ in the hospital, barely recovering, and Courtney wants to know if I could see any evidence of an affair on the monitors. And Sonny keeps talking about how they all went through it, but I’m sorry, Mama —” She bit her lip. “And maybe I’m starting to get why you wanted him to talk to someone.”

“I just…I wonder how much more could have been accomplished if Sonny had been involved. If he’d been another set of eyes. I mean, what Nikolas suggested about a panic room—that shouldn’t have been brand-new information to us. It shouldn’t have taken us until Friday to talk to Ned and learn about Faith and Ric. But Elizabeth had her overdose less than twelve hours after you went missing. She nearly died, Carly. And after that—”

“She became someone else Jason had to worry about.” Carly said, with a sigh. “She refused to leave which ended up being the right call, but—” She shook her head. “I just…I want this to be over, and part of me wants Sonny to just…make a call and end it. To make it over tonight. It’d be so _easy_ and—” Tears stung her as she looked away from her mother. “To be able to lie my head down tonight and know he wasn’t in the world anymore—it’s disgusting how much he hangs over me and he’s not even in the zip code.”

“But you still want to testify.”

“I think—and knowing Kevin, he’d agree—that maybe I’m still processing the worst of it. I said it out loud to Sonny the other day and had a panic attack about ten minutes later. And no, I didn’t tell you when I got to your place that night, Mama, because I knew you’d worry. I had the guard drive me around for a while.”

“Carly—”

“Ric was going to kill me. He was going to keep me in that room for as long as he could, then kill me and take my baby to give to Elizabeth. And if Michael hadn’t seen him, if Jason and Sonny hadn’t gone to the house that night and found Elizabeth drugged up—”

“It haunts me how close we came to losing you, Carly.” Bobbie swallowed hard. “It was easier for Elizabeth to believe what happened because we were there, telling her she was drugged. And Ric only doubled her dose because he doubted her. But if she hadn’t believed, if Michael hadn’t seen you—”

“I might have been in there for weeks,” Carly murmured. “Longer. Maybe Ric would have been able to move me. And it’s hard to admit how close it all was. How if one thing had been different, I might still be gone.” She sighed. “I think I need to look him in the face, Mama, so I can put it away. I _need_ to be the reason he’s gone. I need to be part of it. And I need to know that he’s rotting away, dying in a cell, just the way I nearly did. So yeah, as easy as it would be to just tell Sonny to hell with everything else, end it tonight—it wouldn’t stop the nightmares. It wouldn’t stop the panic attacks.”

She picked up her fork to stab at her omelet. “And if Sonny doesn’t understand that, then I don’t know where that leaves us. Because if he gives the order—”

“Will Jason allow it?” Bobbie finished. “I hope we won’t have to find out.”

**Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office**

“I don’t know what the hell Carly is thinking,” Sonny said as he paced the confines of his office. He turned back to Jason who remained sitting quietly in his seat. “Doesn’t she get how weak this makes me look—”

“To who?” Jason asked, interrupting him. He’d listened to Sonny complain about Carly’s decision to testify and her request that Ric be allowed to rot away in prison. He hadn’t been surprised to learn Carly’s wishes aligned with Elizabeth—in a lot of ways, the two of them were similar though he’d probably be risking his life if he told either of them that.

And he couldn’t understand why Sonny was turning Carly’s reasonable request into some sort of betrayal. He wanted Ric wiped from the face of the Earth, too, but as long as he was sent to prison, away from Elizabeth and Carly, Jason could live with not actually seeing him dead.

If he ever got out—if he were a free man—well, that was a different situation entirely.

“Zacchara? Ruiz?” Sonny sneered. “They’re going to think I’m weak, that I can’t handle my business—”

“And they’d be right, wouldn’t they?” Jason said, irritated for having let Elizabeth head to the courthouse without him because Sonny wanted to have a meeting. Once again, he hadn’t been there for her because of Sonny. He promised himself this would be the last time.

“What the hell does _that_ mean—”

“It means you should have taken Ric out back and shot him months ago,” Jason shot back. “When you learned about the shit he did to Carly. When he kidnapped Courtney. When he tried to kill you. He shouldn’t have been breathing long enough to get to Carly again, to put a hand on Elizabeth. But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill your mother’s son. Do you think you don’t _already_ look weak?”

Sonny glared at him. “You think I’m a coward for letting him live?”

“I think I don’t give a damn—” Jason bit off his words. “Elizabeth wants to testify, too. And she also wants Ric to rot in prison. So that’s what going to happen—”

“If I give the order—”

“I’ll refuse it. I’m not breaking a promise to her because _you_ need to feel strong, Sonny. And you can’t do it without me,” Jason said even as his partner opened his mouth to protest. “I’m the one with the prison connections. You wouldn’t even know who to ask.”

He exhaled slowly. “Carly went through hell. She gets to decide how this goes. Ric didn’t go after her because of who you are in business, Sonny. He did it because of your blood. It was personal. You had your chance to get rid of Ric.”

“You’d refuse a direct order—” Sonny stared at him blankly. “After everything Ric did to Elizabeth, you’d let him live—”

Jason checked the clock on the wall. He’d have to leave now if he had a prayer of making it to the hearing on time. “Look, she and I agreed — she gets to testify and if he goes to prison, he gets to rot there. If he gets acquitted, if he gets out on parole, all bets are off. I have to go, Sonny.”

“Where the hell do you have to go that’s more important?” Sonny demanded.

Jason got to his feet, impatient. “To the courthouse. Elizabeth might still have to testify, even though—”

Sonny blinked. “Testify? Wait.” He held up his hands, some color draining from his face. “Did I—what day is it? I don’t—when did the trial start? Did—”

His ire drained, Sonny sat down. “Did I lose time again? What day is it?” he repeated, his voice climbing in volume and tone.

“It’s July 25, Sonny. And it’s Elizabeth’s hearing about the restraining order. She’s not pushing hard to renew it, but the judge still might ask her to testify.” Weary now, Jason shook his head. “You need to talk to someone, Sonny. I thought after Carly was found, things would get better. But it’s not. And you’ve lost track of time before. You need—”

“I need the people in my life to do what hell the I say!” Sonny jumped back to his feet. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I have to go,” Jason repeated and then left, even as his partner sputtered in protest.

**Port Charles Courthouse: Courtroom**

“Am I reading this correctly, counselor?” the judge asked as he peered at Diane Miller over the top of his glasses. “Your client has decided against testifying in today’s hearing?”

Elizabeth stared straight ahead at the judge. She hadn’t seen Ric since that terrible morning at the house almost a month earlier when she’d had to protect herself with a baseball bat, and she’d realized, just outside of the courtroom, that she wasn’t entirely ready to see him now.

But she knew she had people behind her that cared. Emily and Monica had come to give her support, while other members of the family had gone to Bensonhurst to bury Brooke. Scott and Bobbie were sitting in the front row, while Jason had taken a seat next to his sister and mother. Even Taggert and Cruz Rodriguez had shown up.

She had people behind her that cared, and that mattered.

“Your Honor, my client feels now that she has filed for divorce and moved out of the marital home, along with the fact that the defendant has moved to Crimson Point, her order is unlikely to be renewed. Putting herself through testifying would be useless.” Diane lifted her brows with a smirk. “Particularly given Your Honor’s history with the case.”

“Don’t get cute, Ms. Miller, or I’ll find you in contempt—”

“He means it, too!” Scott called out as Bobbie elbowed him. “Ow! Just giving her a warning.”

The judge ignored the outburst and looked at Elizabeth. “Mrs. Lansing—” Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest but the judge held up a hand. “I apologize. Miss Webber.” He eyed Ric’s table. “You might want to correct your legal petitions to the court, Mr. Lansing. Referring to her with a name that she never took doesn’t bode well for your case and makes me wonder if maybe Miss Webber might be better off with a formal, permanent order of protection after all.”

Elizabeth’s mouth dropped slightly as Diane scowled. “Politics,” she muttered. “The judge took a beating in the press after the way your case was handled. He’s up for re-election this year.”

“I apologize, Your Honor,” Ric said smoothly, his voice causing Elizabeth to shudder. “In my defense, I gave my…estranged wife…the necessary paperwork and she told me she had filed it.”

A lie. He’d given Elizabeth the paperwork, she’d said she’d get to it, and that had been the end of it. But it wasn’t important anymore.

“Miss Webber,” the judge began again. “Does Ms. Miller state your case correctly? Do you not intend to testify? Do you not think a protection order is warranted?”

“To be honest,” Elizabeth said, as she stood. “I didn’t intend to put myself through Ric Lansing’s cross-examination at this point because I didn’t think you’d renew the order anyway. It’s no doubt reached Mr. Lansing’s attention that I have reunited with the man I was dating before I met my estranged husband. I worried you might see my moving on as some sort of sign that I wasn’t…” Afraid was not the right word. God, she didn’t want to admit it, but— “That morning, when he threw me across the room, when he grabbed me, chased me—I was _terrified_. I knew he’d kidnapped Carly, I knew he’d drugged me. But somehow…I didn’t think he was capable of that.”

She took a deep breath. “And despite my charges of assault against him, Your Honor, _you_ agreed to a temporary injunction that gave him power over me as I recovered from an illness he was responsible for and then kept him from being arrested for nearly killing me and kidnapping Carly Corinthos. So, with all due respect, Your Honor, I’d rather have the protection order, but I didn’t trust the system to grant it.”

The judged stared at her for a long moment with a furrowed brow, as if not sure whether to find her in contempt as he’d threatened her lawyer or just ignore her outburst. “Miss Webber, if I decide not to grant your request, you understand that Mr. Lansing _will_ be allowed to contact you. He’s serving as his own attorney in the case you referred to.”

“And it’s my understanding that if I decline to sit for an interview with him, asking me again would count as witness harassment and intimidation,” Elizabeth said. “Which might cause his bail to be revoked.” She looked at Ric who was almost smirking at her in return. “So, let this serve as your notice. Mr. Lansing, that it will be a cold day in hell before that happens. The next time you and I see one another will be in a court room to make sure you pay for what you did to me and to Carly.”

“Your Honor,” Ric protested. “I have every right to build the case to clear my name, and we’re in the middle of divorce proceedings. Contacting her—”

“Miss Webber, I’m granting a renewal of the protection order,” the judge said. “For an additional six months.” He banged the gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

Ric scowled, but gathered his papers, then stalked out. Taggert and Cruz got up and followed, likely to make sure he actually left the premises and didn’t hang out to wait for Elizabeth afterwards.

Elizabeth blinked and looked at Diane. “Why did that work?”

“I’m not sure…” Diane frowned as she twisted in her seat to look at Scott. “Thoughts, Scott?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scott said with a shrug. “Maybe a few calls from some well-placed donors reminded him who the hell he was here to serve. He wants to win re-election in November, he can’t afford to annoy some people.”

“Some people?” Elizabeth repeated only to catch Emily’s eye as her best friend, Monica, and Jason joined them at the front of the court room. “Emily—”

“Grandfather was more than happy to make a few phone calls on your behalf, Liz. He’s feeling really helpless with everything that’s going on with Ned and Brooke, so this was something he _could_ do. And Nikolas also made some calls from London.”

“I appreciate the support.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I’m glad we were able to get the order renewed without Carly having to testify. I think we both only really want to do this once, you know?”

She looked at Scott, who raised his brows at her. “We haven’t—we’re still talking about it, Scott. But I know I’m leaning towards a trial.”

“We got time, Elizabeth. This was a win today.” He looked at Bobbie. “Do you want a ride home or am I still in trouble?”

“You’re always in trouble,” Bobbie muttered but she followed the district attorney out of the room. Within twenty minutes, Jason and Elizabeth were able to extract themselves from the rest of the crowd and head for the parking garage where Jason parked his SUV.

Once inside the car, Jason exhaled slowly and just sat for a moment before starting the engine. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth leaned back against the headrest, her eyes closed. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad the judge changed his mind and renewed the order. With any luck, six months from now, the trial will be over, and he’ll be sentenced.” She looked at Jason. “Carly and I didn’t talk long yesterday, but I got the impression Sonny is maybe less on board than you are.”

“He thinks letting Ric live makes him look weak,” Jason admitted. “But I made it clear to him — this is what you and Carly want. This is what you guys get. It’s not up to me and Sonny. This isn’t business, it’s personal and—” He hesitated. “He’s not doing well, Elizabeth. He thought the trial was today.”

“He’s still refusing to get help?”

“He came close after Carly was rescued, but…he’s been doing this for years. Crashing, getting well again, sliding towards the edge again—”

“Jason—”

“Carly and I—we’ve been good at keeping him together. We just…it’s hard right now—with Ric.”

Elizabeth bit her lip and stared out the windshield at the cement walls of the parking garage. “If letting Ric go to trial and live in prison is such an issue, if Carly changes her mind, then I—”

“No.” He shook his head. “You told me this is what you need. I’m not going to asking to you change your mind because of Sonny—”

“You’re not asking me, Jason. I’m offering. I know how scary it was for Sonny to hallucinate Lily, and I don’t want to create problems with him—”

“You’re not, Elizabeth—” He looked at her. “You told me that you hated when I put them first—”

“And you listened. That matters, Jason. But it’s important that I listen to _you_. So, let’s…it’s an option I’m willing to consider if Carly ends up changing her mind, okay?”

“Okay.” Jason switched on the engine. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Brownstone: Front Steps**

Lucky leaned against the car as he waited for Kelsey to stop scowling at her phone. “It’s good news,” he repeated. “The last thing PCPD or the DA’s office needs is Ric Lansing with the freedom to go near Elizabeth.”

“I know, I know—” Kelsey finally shoved her phone in her purse and climbed out of his car. He shut the door. “I guess I’m just—I’m nervous. This is a huge case, and Scott’s trying so hard to do the right thing. He offered them a deal to avoid testifying—”

“Yeah.” Lucky rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, well he probably feels guilty for railroading my mom—” When she shot him a dirty look, he held up his hand in surrender. “Okay. Fine. I appreciate that Baldwin has approached Elizabeth’s case with this much care, and I know my aunt is relatively happy with him.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey blew out a breath. “Your aunt.” She looked at the Brownstone. “Are you sure we need to go to dinner tonight? I mean, it’s been a long day. I’m sure your aunt is tired—”

Lucky put his arm around her shoulders and propelled towards the stairs. “Hey, are you and I serious about doing this? You still want to date me?”

“Yes.” Kelsey wrinkled her nose, looked at him. “Yes. But if I have to meet your family, you have to meet mine. My mother is coming up to see me next month, and I want you to come to dinner with us.” She stopped him before he could open the front door. “And Scott.”

“Oh, man—” Lucky grimaced. “Kelsey—”

“You don’t have to like him,” she told him. “But I think we’ve moved past the part where we declare a neutral zone, you know? He’s my boss, and he’s someone that—” She bit her lip. “He’s a connection to my father. And I miss my dad, so sometimes, I can still feel close to him because my dad really loved Scott.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay. Now, c’mon, I want you to meet my Aunt Bobbie. She’s been the rock of the Spencer family for most of my life, and she’s important to me.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry in advance about my sister, though. There’s no explaining her.”

Kelsey laughed as he opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

_Brooklyn, New York_

**Cerullo Home: Front Porch**

When Ned stepped out the front door, he found Lois sitting in a patio chair on the cramped porch of her family’s home. With a glass of wine in her hand, his ex-wife sat in stony silence, oblivious to the sound of conversation coming from inside.

“I wondered how long you’d last,” Lois said sourly as Ned leaned against the porch post and looked out over the streets of Bensonhurst. “Ma never really liked you after we got divorced.”

“Well, she never really believed I was good enough for you.” Ned sipped his water. “Thank you. For letting my family come.”

“Yeah, well, that was Ma and Liv’s idea. Me? I don’t want to think about Port Charles again. You and me never have to talk again.”

Ned exhaled slowly and gently sat at the top of the stairs, his back to Lois. “Fair enough. I loved you. Part of me always will. I wanted to believe I could be the man that you thought I was. Eddie Maine. The good guy who did good things for the right reasons. I wanted that life. I wanted it with you.”

“You _chose_ not to have it with me. Don’t give me none of that bull about what’s in your blood and how you’ll never be different—”

“It’s easy to blame my family,” Ned said, cutting in almost as if Lois hadn’t spoken. “Easier to think I couldn’t escape being Edward Ashton, but you’re right. I chose to lie to you about who I was. Chose to bring you to Port Charles. Chose to break promises to you, to put my family over you. I did all of that. And I knew even as I was doing it, I was hurting you. I was arrogant. I thought you’d stay with me. You’d already forgiven me for so much, I just assumed your generosity was a bottomless well I could never drain.”

Lois sat beside him and sighed. “Yeah, well, _I_ was sure the man I loved was buried somewhere deep inside of you. That if I could just hold on tight, show you how much I loved the good in you, you could be that man all the time.”

“Lois—”

“The thing that maybe I didn’t want to see is that it was wrong to want you to change. I mean, I knew you were the kind of guy who not only would lie about his entire identity, but also marry someone else, have an affair…” She grimaced. “Anyway—”

“I was a terrible husband and an even worse father,” Ned continued. “And I don’t blame you for not wanting to have anything to do with me again.”

“It’s—you weren’t a _terrible_ husband and father,” Lois said after a long moment. “It’s easy to blame you,” she continued, echoing his earlier statement. “Because then I don’t have to remember I was fed up with her before I sent her away. I cut her off from NYU. I sent her far from her friends and family. And I was on board with you keeping away the car and the phone. We made those decisions _together_, Ned.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Looking at you, thinking of you, it reminds me that we killed her, together. We took away her freedom, her choices, and we drove her into that park. And then when she needed us, we were angry with each other. We’re responsible for her death.”

“Maybe two percent of the responsibility is with us, Lois, but I’m gonna blame the animal who did this to her. Who made her hurt so badly, who took away her security and dignity. We punished her, Lois. Maybe too harshly. But—” Ned swallowed hard. “I’m not going to sue the city. It’s not enough. I don’t want them to just pay. I want to make sure it can’t happen to another family.”

“You mean, you want to clean up the streets of Port Charles?” Lois snorted. “I’ve heard this before. I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But it’s time for someone to do something. Floyd put all those girls in danger for his political career. You think this is the first time he leaned on Mac to do something like this? You think this is the _first_ cover-up?”

Lois hesitated, then sipped her wine. “Probably not. Ned—”

“I tried to find someone else. I don’t—if I run for mayor, Lois, Brooke’s case doesn’t go away. It stays on the front page. But I don’t want it—” He shook his head. “I’m not using her to get power. And people might come talk to you. If you tell me you can’t handle this, I’ll keep trying to find someone else. I have six more days before the deadline to register for the election.”

She was quiet for a long moment as the sunlight dipped below the horizon at the end of the street. The streetlights flickered on as he waited.

“Losing my little girl was the worst thing that has ever happened to me, but maybe I could live with it better if it’d been a car accident.” She finished her wine. “But the city knew the park was being stalked and didn’t even increase police presence. Floyd and anyone who went along with it—they threw our little girl away. Like she didn’t matter. And she’s not the only one. I didn’t do right by Brooke, Ned. Neither of us did. But maybe…maybe if we get someone in there who wouldn’t use it for his power—”

“Ten years ago,” she murmured. “Ten years ago, I probably would have thought you’d be the worst candidate for mayor. You were blackmailing Justus, covering up the accident, but you know…you did all of that to protect your family. Because you protect what’s yours.” She looked at him, met his eyes. “You end up as mayor, Ned, they’re all yours. Every single person. Protect them. Protect them better than we did our girl.”

He exhaled slowly, closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have done it without your blessing, Lois.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna take some time before I can be in the same room with you, and that’s not because I hate you.” They got to their feet and Lois reached out to adjust his tie, smiling up at him almost like she’d done once upon a time. “She had your eyes. The way she carried herself sometimes and smiled at me—I can’t look at you and _not_ see her. Right now…it’s too much.”

She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his lips. “But I’ll always love you and the perfect angel we created together.”

“I’ll always love you, too,” he murmured, kissing her again, remembering what he’d once discarded and taken for granted.

She stepped back and smirked at him, that gorgeous knowing look in her eyes that had always drawn him to her— “I better get back inside to Ma and the others. I’m…I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too.”


	17. Chapter Thirty-Six

_'Cause we break_  
_And we burn_  
_And we turn it inside out_  
_To take it back_  
_To the start_  
_And through the rise and falling apart_  
_We discover who we are_  
- Who We Are, Lifehouse

* * *

_Saturday, July 26, 2003_

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott** **’s Office **

Scott scowled down at the report from the special master who had emailed his preliminary decision regarding the medical records Ric Lansing had subpoenaed. He’d completed reviewing Elizabeth’s files, and—

He looked up as Kelsey, dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, knocked on his open desk door. “What are you doing here? You’re young. Go have a life. Go call Lucky Spencer.”

His ADA smirked at him. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up. Did his aunt tell you?”

“She said you came to dinner.” And Bobbie had been very effusive in her praise of Kelsey dating her nephew, suggesting that Lucky hadn’t been this happy in a few years. “She liked you.”

“I liked her. As for why I’m here today—I had a meeting with Taggert to catch me up on the park rapist.” Kelsey tilted her head. “Why are _you_ here? Don’t you have Serena this week?”

“Next week,” Scott said. “And she’s too old to be hanging out with her dad during the day. I got the special master’s report back last night—would you believe this asshole thinks all of Elizabeth’s medical records should be open to the defense?”

“Transparency,” Kelsey offered with a shrug. “How many cases do you see get nailed because a prosecutor held something back? He’s probably just erring on the side of caution. And so what? If Elizabeth Webber was traumatized—”

“It’s just crap,” Scott muttered. “Sure, she got her protection order, but she also gets to know her psycho ex has access to her therapy sessions and just based on Gail’s notes, they’re going deep and working through a lot that’s not relevant. Even if he can’t bring it up at trial—”

“He gets to know it. Well, maybe that will help her make up her mind about going to trial.” Kelsey took a seat at Scott’s conference table. “Listen, not that I want to give you any more bad news—”

“Oh, hell.” Scott shoved the special master’s report aside. “What now?”

“You remember when you said something was off in the way Mac was counting open cases? We had nine in cold storage, four open, but Mac said there was fourteen.”

Scott pursed her lips. “He wasn’t wrong, was he? Was there another case?”

“Yeah, but it’s…not good news.” Kelsey took out her notepad. “Elizabeth Webber.”

“Oh, man. Oh, no. Don’t tell me the PCPD screwed up her rape case. This is not something I need in my life. This is not something that she needs either.” Scott buried his face in his hands and moaned. “Give it to me, Kelse. All the bad news.”

“Well, according to her file, Elizabeth was attacked in the park on February 14, 1998. She was sixteen, which meant the statute of limitations didn’t start until she turned eighteen in 1999. She was raped at the same fountain as Brooke, but her injuries were much less severe, and a friend took her home. She didn’t report right away—even took a shower. But someone convinced her to do a rape kit at Mercy Hospital where pictures were taken, and she turned over the dress she’d been wearing that night.”

“Okay. So…?”

“She finally made a statement to the police a few weeks later, sometime in March. Alejandro Garcia and Dara Jenson took the statement, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. Couldn’t send the dress for testing with no suspect, and according to Garcia’s notes, she didn’t remember a lot of details. Some minor things came back to her over the next few months — he’d smelled like soap…and…” Kelsey waited for Scott to look at him. “He only spoke three words to her.”

“Oh, hell. ‘Not a word.’ The same thing Brooke Ashton said.”

“Yeah. Garcia left the PCPD, but Taggert took over. He did some work, but nowhere to go. Until Emily Quartermaine and Elizabeth get held hostage by Tom Baker. Apparently, Elizabeth said Tom Baker admitted to raping to her while they were alone, but he later denied it. He went to trial on the charges in the blackmailing and kidnapping case, but Elizabeth had an outcry—”

“I remember all of this, but what happened to the rape kit—” Scott leaned forward. “Once Baker was a suspect, they must have sent it over—”

“That’s the part where Taggert is getting a little squirrely. Because that’s what _our_ records show. Around Christmas of 1998, Dara Jenson marked into the DA’s file that a rape kit was returned from the lab with no profile or anything else. The same report exists in the PCPD’s file…but…”

“Kelsey—”

“Taggert never saw the report. And he said he was told in _November_ that the kit had come back negative and that the case needed to be made inactive. He fought it, according to him, but eventually agreed. He said he walked the case to cold storage and listed it as an open, but inactive investigation.” Kelsey rubbed the back of her neck. “Tom Baker pleaded to avoid a mistrial on the rape outcry and a retrial. He’s in prison now, but up for parole in December.”

“Wait…” Scott held up his hands. “Taggert was told in November the kit was sent back negative, but the report we have is from December?” He frowned. “_After_ Elizabeth went public, accusing Baker?”

“Yeah, he noticed that, too. He said he was told a report would be sent over and Mac would take care of the filing. Taggert said he didn’t send the rookies down to get that case, specifically, but Lucky Spencer—”

“Knows Elizabeth. He was the friend who brought her home, right? I remember they were dating when he got…” Scott sighed. “So, Mac faked a report? Why?”

“He also officially listed her case as solved and the box ended up in closed archives. Spencer noticed it when they pulled the other nine—hers was missing from cold storage.”

“I—” Scott stared at her. “That doesn’t make any damn sense. Her case had a suspect, but he wasn’t convicted—”

“Yeah, Lucky pulled it out of the archives himself. He and the rookies went down there a few days ago to look for similar cases. And Lucky knew the details of her case, so he was looking for her case. When he gave Mac the list of cases to reopen, Mac only sent the first two. He didn’t include Elizabeth’s.”

He hesitated. “He didn’t include it—”

“Taggert told me Mac gave him some sort of excuse about how Elizabeth’s case didn’t have physical evidence and, because of Baker, might have reasonable doubt. But that doesn’t explain why the lab says they have no record her kit was ever sent to them and the dress itself doesn’t have any notation it was sent anywhere.” Kelsey shook her head. “Taggert doesn’t want to call it a cover-up, but either it’s a massive screw up—”

“Or someone wanted her case to disappear.” Scott let his head fall to the surface of the table with a loud thud. “Of all the cases in all the world, Floyd and Mac had to fuck up Elizabeth Webber’s. A young woman we narrowly avoided getting killed this summer. Fan-fucking-tastic. I quit.”

“He sent her kit over with the other nine to the lab.” Kelsey waited to continue speaking until Scott had gathered himself. “I also filed a court order to get Baker’s DNA tested. Elizabeth’s profile matches the other rapes, so I want to exclude him. But I don’t know what to do with all the rest of it. Baker was in jail for the rest of the attacks.”

“Let’s…” Scott took a deep breath. “Okay. When can we expect the DNA on all seven cases to come back?”

“I put a rush order on all of them, but I moved Webber to the top of the list. Maybe the first week of September.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “Tell Taggert to keep investigating, but let’s keep a lid on the case. If her case doesn’t have DNA, we can’t do anything with it anyway. And if she’s believed the right guy is in jail and has been all along, I am in no hurry to bring that trauma up. Not after what she’s been through.”

Not after the horrifying notes Gail had made about Ric Lansing drugging her to have sex. The last thing Elizabeth Webber needed to think was her first rapist was on the loose, too. Motherfucker.

“Scott-”

“I want to have all my ducks in a row before I accuse the commissioner and Floyd—because he’s damn well involved—of covering up the rape of a teenaged girl.” He swallowed hard. “Because that’s not the Mac Scorpio I’ve known for a decade. He has stepdaughters he’s raised practically since birth. He adores them. I can see holding off on a public warning, but actively covering up for another rapist—there _has_ to be a reason.”

“Maybe,” Kelsey said. She sighed. “Lucky and I decided we’d bring this to you because we’ve only been here five minutes, and I think Taggert will probably go along with it but promise me…promise me we’re not going to let this slide. This is…this is sickening. This case, from the start, has been screwed up, but to know it goes so far back—” She shook her head. “I can’t deal with it.”

“I don’t care if I have to broadcast the news myself. If I can prove the PCPD and the mayor’s office covered up a rapist who was then allowed to continue operating, leading to six more rapes and the death of a young girl—I’ll burn this city to the ground.”

_Monday, July 28, 2003_

**General Hospital: Gail Baldwin** **’s Office**

Elizabeth sat on Gail’s sofa with a smile on her face. “You’ll be happy to hear that I just had my check up with Monica and she said everything looks great.”

“Really?” Gail asked as she set her notebook in her lap. “Your scans are still good?”

“Not a clot in sight. I’ll still have to be careful about exertion because I still get winded easily, but she said that should really start to subside as long as I stick to the physical therapy regimen.” She smirked and rolled her eyes. “And once Jason gets his hand on it, there’s no chance I’ll slack off.”

“He’s still taking your health more seriously than you I see,” Gail said, and Elizabeth winced at the admonition in her therapist’s voice.

“We haven’t argued about it since last week, but yes, Jason is a little more…” She hesitated. “Obsessed with it than I am. He’s been better, though and we’ve been…” Her cheeks flushed. “We went out of town Saturday night. Just overnight to a place he knows in the Adirondacks, not that far away. But we’re…we’re okay in that area, too. As long as he knows where the oxygen mask is.”

“Sounds romantic,” Gail quipped, and Elizabeth managed a short laugh. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“You mean, do I love the fact that the two or three times we’ve been intimate since last week, he stops everything to make sure the mask is within reach if I need it—” She grimaced. “It would, except I needed it on Saturday night, and it was right there. So, no panic attack. No hyperventilating. No embarrassing check up with my boyfriend’s mother in the middle of the night.” She shrugged. “Seems like an even trade. I get Jason, and he gets to make sure I’m alive.”

“I have to say…considering your hearing on Friday, you seem remarkably upbeat. You received my message about the special master?” Gail asked. “I’m so very sorry—”

“You have a court order, Gail. And, no, I’m not surprised Ric is trying anything he can to mess with my credibility. But what is he going to learn from those notes? That I had a damaged view of myself last year? That I thought so little of myself that Ric seemed like the best option?”

Elizabeth sighed, some of her cheer fading. “How does that change the medical reports or Carly’s testimony? I hate that he’s going to have an open window into my relationship with Jason, but you know? It’s more important that I get this right, with Jason, I mean. To understand why I did the things I did last year—to be able to think clearly and make good choices.”

She crossed her legs at the ankle. “I had a run-in with Courtney last week—we talked about that, remember?”

“Yes.”

“And…I remember trying to explain to Jason how knowing he’d gone to the Quartermaines and the police when I was kidnapped—how that would have helped me understand him more last summer. He’s so contained, Gail. I mean, he’s better than he was, but he still keeps _so_ much locked away. And all I could see was him leaving me. Every time he had the chance, he left me to go to someone else…and…”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Somewhere along the way…I decided it was difficult to love me, and that most of the time, people didn’t think I was worth the effort. That’s why…they left. Or forgot me. Or moved on. I thought…there’s something inside of me that makes it impossible for someone to promise forever and mean it.”

“Do you still think it?” Gail asked.

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip. “I know I felt that way when I had the miscarriage. I think that’s what made losing the baby so much worse. I thought…I thought I would be a good mother. That I would love my child and give them the unconditional love I never had. And you know, it’s horrible to think this way…but with my baby, I wouldn’t be alone anymore. That I would just have someone who would love me just for…just for what I was.” She met Gail’s eyes. “That’s too much pressure for a baby, I guess.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I just…I made so many choices out of fear of being alone, but I guess I never thought about _why_ I didn’t want to be alone. Why was I so desperate for Lucky to love me? For Jason to put me first? For Ric to give up his vendetta against Sonny? Why would I have…ignored all my instincts and stay when my feelings weren’t there. I agreed to marry Lucky and Ric, and I didn’t really love either of them.” She shrugged. “And you know…I did it because they were going to stay. And God, I guess…that was…I guess I was measuring love by whether someone stuck.”

Elizabeth looked out the window. “I should have found another way to measure it, I guess. It should be more than someone who doesn’t go away.”

“What should it be?”

“It should be…” She hesitated. “Someone who comes back. Who…doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but I guess, but can understand why you think it. Someone who…” she managed a half smile. “Who can cook but eats out because you can’t. Or will let you struggle with something he could do in five minutes because you’re trying to make a point and he respects you. Who watches movies even though he hates it because he knows you like cuddling on the sofa. Who compromises by making sure there’s an oxygen mask because he gets how important it is for you to feel normal and in love when he’d rather wrap you in cotton and keep the world away.”

Another tear slid down her cheek. “Someone who’s honest even when it hurts. Who doesn’t stay because he has nowhere else to go but because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.” She looked at Gail. “It’s not hard to love me, is it? Jason’s shown me for years what it was supposed to be. I just didn’t know what I was looking at.”

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Mac paced his office, checked his watch, and swore when Floyd arrived, ten minutes later than their scheduled meeting time. “You know, you could return a few phone calls—”

“What’s so important that you’ve been badgering my secretary for the last week?” the mayor demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought we agreed that I should make fewer visits—”

“Taggert sent officers down to cold storage to look at open cases, looking for a link to this guy.” Mac dragged both hands through his curly hair. “And he sent Spencer who damn well _knew_ that the Webber case was supposed to be there.”

“So, it’s a mistake.” Floyd shrugged. “Her case was considered unofficially solved. Taggert knows that—”

“Dara Jensen called me this morning to ask why Scott Baldwin is asking her about the Webber case and if it was routine for her to check in lab reports a month after they were received.”

Floyd grimaced. “I knew we should have back dated that report to November.” He leaned against the table. “So?”

“So, Taggert sent the rape kit over for testing because he says it was never processed in the first place. I played it off like it was a mistake, but…” Mac shook his head. “You’re going to blame this all on me?”

“Should it come out?” Floyd lifted his brows. “Of course. That’s the deal. Now if it comes back at me, I can throw Edward Quartermaine under the bus. He’s committed so many atrocities against his own family, I highly doubt they’d think was beneath him. You’re worried about this too much. There are only three days left to file paperwork to run against me. By the end of the week, I’ll be officially running unopposed.”

“And how does that help _me_?” Mac demanded. “Look, maybe I should just come clean. I should resign.” He took a deep breath. “That’s the right thing to do. I wanted to do it after Brooke, but maybe I’ve just been on borrowed time.”

“You told me Baker was the guy,” Floyd hissed, stabbing a finger at him. “_You_ told me that he confessed. That you believed the Webber girl when she said he confessed. Do you think for one minute either one of us would have falsified that report and closed her case if we’d thought he was still out there?”

“I know I wouldn’t have,” Mac said, with a lift of his chin. “But this guy—the cases are too similar—”

“What purpose does it serve for you to come clean and resign?” With a firm shake of his head, Floyd rejected that premise. “Listen to me, you feel guilty, fine. You think the guy got away, fine. Make it right. Find the guy.”

Mac scowled but the mayor just left. Even if he found the guy, even if they were able to put him away for what he’d done to these women, if it was true that Mac had made Elizabeth’s case go away and left the real rapist out on the streets…

There was no making it right. He’d be handing in his badge one way or another. As soon as this case was closed.

This city deserved a better commissioner, and he hoped like hell a better man than Floyd ran for mayor.

**Quartermaine Estate: Poolside**

Dillon scowled down at the computer and deleted the entire chunk of text he’d just typed. Nothing he’d worked on in the last week had been worth keeping, and just like every other screenplay he’d tried to create, this one would go in the trash.

He wanted to get away from everything, had told Reginald that, barring an emergency, no one needed to know where he was.

But better men than Reginald had fallen under the spell of a pretty girl, so Dillon was unsurprised when Georgie turned the corner around a hedge and offered him a sheepish wave. They hadn’t spoken since Brooke’s memorial the week before, and Dillon was okay with that. More okay than maybe he would have been considering they’d been dating for a few months.

But maybe she was here to ask for forgiveness, to apologize for defending her stepfather only days after Brooke had taken her own life. And Dillon could understand if Georgie had lashed out in loyalty. Her fierce devotion to people was one of his favorite things.

“Hey,” she said, taking a seat in the lounge chair across from him. “I always forget this is back here.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of the appeal. I’m the only one who uses it. Emily’s usually too busy.” Brooke had used it a few times, but he left that unspoken.

“When did you guys get back from New York?” Georgie asked.

“I drove back up with Alan on Saturday. Ned and Grandfather stayed until today to go over some business stuff, I think.” Dillon eyed her. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I just…I felt so awful about how we left things last week,” Georgie said. She sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that about Brooke. And of course, you blame everyone. I blame myself, too. We should have been nicer to her. Done more for her after, I don’t know. But…”

And she’d been doing so well. “Georgie, please don’t tell me you came over to plead your stepfather’s case again—”

“I’m not, not really. I just—” She shook her head. “I just thought with some time to calm down, you’d see that blaming someone and them actually _being_ responsible are different. I know Mac didn’t do everything right—”

“He didn’t do _anything_ right—” he bit off the rest of protest and shook his head violently. He closed his laptop, set it on the table next to him before getting to his feet. “I can’t believe you’re doing this again. Georgie, Brooke is _dead_.”

“And Mac isn’t—”

“I don’t know if she meant to take all those pills or if it was an accident, but either way, she had those pills because some asshole raped her and beat her within an inch of her life. He violated her, and your stepfather—he knew the park was being targeted. He took the time to warn his own kids but said fuck it to everyone else.” Dillon clenched his fists at his side. “So, if you don’t understand why the hell I think Mac should be fired—at the very least—then I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other.”

“Fine!” Georgie threw up her hands and whirled around to find Ned standing just inside the fence that surrounded the pool. “Um—”

“Don’t bother with condolences,” Ned said coolly, “or allow me to interrupt your storming out.”

Georgie’s face was bright red as she rushed past by Ned and fled.

“I’m sorry,” Dillon said, sinking back onto the pool lounger. “You don’t need to be hearing that shit.”

“She’s young,” Ned said after a moment. He sat on the lounger Georgie had vacated. “And she loves Mac. She’ll come around.”

“Yeah, but I think the part where we date is done now.” Dillon grimaced. “I didn’t realize you and Grandfather were back.”

“Just a little while ago. We, ah, stayed in the city for a meeting.” Ned hesitated. “We were hiring a campaign manager.”

“Oh, yeah, you found someone to run against the dick?” Dillon asked as he slid his laptop into his bag. “Who?”

“Me,” Ned admitted. “We filed notice on the way home. It’s surprisingly easy to get listed on the ballot run as an independent.”

“You?” Dillon repeated. “I didn’t see that coming—but I guess that’s good.” He hesitated. “But it means the press will be talking about Brooke all the time—”

“Which means they can’t forget about her case,” Ned said. “But yeah, it’ll be hard. I talked to Lois. She’s okay with it.” He studied his younger brother. “What do you think?”

“I think anyone is better than Floyd, even a Quartermaine,” Dillon said, only half-joking. He was relieved, and more than a little pleased, to see Ned laugh.

Maybe they’d be okay after all.

**Condo: Bedroom**

Elizabeth was already sitting up in bed, sketching, when she heard the front door open. Jason hadn’t promised to come by that night—only said he’d try to but there was a lot of work at the warehouse. But he was here.

When he appeared in the doorway, she smiled at him. “Hey. You look beat.”

“Yeah, it was a long day.”

She watched as he stripped down to his briefs and tossed his jeans and t-shirt into a duffel bag he kept in the corner of the room. “I cleared out part of the dresser.”

Jason turned to look at her. “What?”

Her cheeks were hot as she continued. “If you…wanted to keep clothes here. I could…um…wash them when I do mine.” Elizabeth bit her lip as he continued to stare at her. “I mean, it seems kind of crazy for you to keep going back and forth. You could just…keep them here.”

He sat on her side of the bed and she crossed her legs, moving into a sitting position to give him room. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I mean…I know we haven’t really talked about it before…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I got my all-clear from Monica, so we’re fine on that front, but I also…I had kind of a breakthrough with Gail today. Something she said we’ve been working towards for the last few weeks, and it’s just…encouraged me to make sure I’m taking charge. Creating the life I want.”

Jason hesitated. “Okay—”

“When we talked about last summer, I said I had this thing about staying, but I didn’t want to get into it. The thing is…I _needed_ to get into it. I needed to understand why I doubted you last year. Why I doubted myself. And why I keep making decisions out of fear.”

“You’ve been through a lot—”

“I have, but it’s not why.” She took his hand in hers, tracing the lines on his skin, the rough calluses on his fingers. “People tend to have a hard time loving me.” When he scowled, she added, “And I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about my parents. My sister. My brother. My grandmother. Even Lucky at first. And they all…left me. So somewhere along the line…I decided it was me. That I should work harder to make people stay. To make them love me.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

“Knowing that doesn’t really fix anything, but it does…I can step outside of myself and see it. I look at you…and even after everything we’ve been through…sometimes I think there’s no reason you’ll stay. No reason to believe I can make you happy.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t feel that way all the time. Most of the time, I can shut the voices up. It’s just…it’s hard for me to trust that I can do this. That we can make this work.”

“Elizabeth…”

“But the only way for me to get over it is to just…” Elizabeth shrugged. “Is to just do it. I’ve been scared to ask you about what’s next. What you want from me. What you want from us. And I keep hoping you’ll do it first, but I think you haven’t brought it up because maybe you’re just as scared as I am.”

“For a long time,” Jason began, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I didn’t think about the future. I didn’t really know what to do with the idea of one. I didn’t have a past, I couldn’t think past the moment. And, you know, Robin felt the same way. She didn’t really think of herself as having a future even though she planned for one.” He looked up, met her eyes. “But I want to think about it. With you.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “So, I’m going to start by being honest with you about what I want. And if it’s not what you want, you need to tell me that, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

She bit her lip and looked down at their joined hands. “I want you to keep your clothes here. I mean, I guess you can keep your room at Jake’s if you want, but I want you to be here at night. And when you want us to, we can go to the penthouse. And maybe you can teach me to cook so we stop spending all our money on takeout.” She peeked up at him to find him smiling. “How are we doing so far?”

“All good things. I can bring over my stuff tomorrow—”

“Okay, good. Because I…I want children.”

His smile slipped just a bit as his eyes widened. “What?”

“Not now,” Elizabeth said immediately. “I mean, I said Monica gave me all the clear, but I still have physical therapy to deal with and I need to figure out what kind of career I’m gonna have, but…I want a family, Jason. And that’s going to be a deal breaker.” Her heart was pounding as she continued. “I don’t want to hear in a year or two that it’s too dangerous and we have to stop—”

“It’s never going to be perfect,” Jason cut in. “And I can’t promise you one hundred percent safety, but I won’t walk away from you because of it. And I would never walk away from a child. Which…” He nodded. “Yeah, I want that, too. When you want it. When you’re ready.”

“Okay.” She just stared at him. “Really?”

“Really.” He leaned forward and kissed her, sliding his hands through her hair, then framing her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured as she drew him back against the pillows, parting her legs so he could settle between them. “And before you ask…I already set out the oxygen mask.”

He laughed and reached over to switch off the light.


	18. Chapter Thirty-Seven

_Is it dark, where you are?_  
_Can you count the stars where you are?_  
_Do you feel like you are a thousand miles from home?_  
_Are you lost, where you are?_  
_Can you find your way when you're so far?_  
_Do you fear, where you are?_  
_A thousand nights alone_  
\- Longest Night, Howie Day

* * *

_Monday, September 8, 2003_

**General Hospital: Monica** **’s Office**

Elizabeth shifted in her chair and checked the clock on the wall. It had been at least ten minutes since Monica had gone to get her blood test results. Not that Elizabeth was all that nervous about her two-month checkup — the checkup that would, hopefully, go a long way towards reassuring Jason.

He’d gotten a lot better about her health in the last five weeks and she hadn’t needed the oxygen mask in two weeks, but she still sometimes caught him looking at her closely and hesitating before doing anything more strenuous than walking across the room.

Finally, almost fifteen minutes after Monica had left, Jason’s mother returned, a folder in her hand…and a carefully blank look on her face.

Elizabeth straightened in her chair, watching with trepidation as Monica sat in the empty chair next to her, not behind her desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Monica said. “There was…” She pursed her lips. “A result on the initial round of tests that came back that required further testing. The results of that second test just came in…” She looked at Elizabeth. “I had to run a pregnancy test.”

“Pregnancy…” Elizabeth trailed off with a shake of her head. “Well, I’m _not_ pregnant. I mean, it’s too soon after everything that happened, and—” With a slight flush, she lifted her hands in confusion, letting them fall back into her lap. “Jason and I are careful. I mean, I can’t use the pill anymore, but we—Monica, we’re—” She bit her lip. “Did it come back positive?”

“It did. We can run another one if you’re really not convinced. When was your last period?”

“Honestly? Not since before the miscarriage.” Her heart plummeted into her stomach. “Oh, God. Monica. There’s no way I was pregnant before everything happened — I mean, I didn’t…I didn’t sleep with Ric again, but he was drugging me—”

Her stomach lurched as she turned away. _Oh, God—_

“No, no, of course not. We ran all of these tests at the last appointment and this is the first time this hormone level was elevated. I can assure you, Elizabeth, you were not pregnant when you came in for the overdose. I ran a full toxicology report at the time and pregnancy is just…it’s one of the basic things we test for in our female patients.” Monica exhaled in a huff. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you worry—it’s not Ric’s child. No chance of it.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. Well, then, at the most, I couldn’t be more than seven weeks along. Um…” She looked at Monica, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “You still look concerned. Worried.”

“This isn’t my specialty,” Monica admitted, “but I will admit to being a bit…_apprehensive_ about what a pregnancy means for your health—at this point. Unfortunately, there’s not a terrible lot of information out there about the risks of embolisms in pregnant patients after already having suffered an occurrence. But—”

“Blood clots, specifically pulmonary embolisms, are a risk factor in pregnancy,” Elizabeth finished. She stared down at her hands. “What else?”

“You didn’t just suffer an embolism, Elizabeth. You were in cardiac arrest. You had a mild heart attack when the second clot burst. You’ve struggled to regain your stamina and energy because of how severe the crisis was.” Monica waited a moment. “If you had come to me, asking for a timetable, I would have recommended waiting at least year.”

“We were safe,” Elizabeth repeated, more to herself. “Jason—I mean, after Robin—and you know obsessed he’s been about my health. He _never_ would have—”

“I think—” Monica bit her lip. “It hasn’t hit the news quite yet, and of course, it depends on your brand, but one of ELQ’s subsidiary companies will be issuing a recall on a batch of condoms. For this very reason, apparently. They were…less than effective.”

“Oh, God.” Elizabeth pressed her hands to her face. “Enduro.”

“Yes.”

Pregnant. Less than two months after nearly dying from blood clots and cardiac arrest…she looked at her doctor, at Jason’s mother. “What…happens next? What would you recommend? I mean, if I were just any other patient—”

“You mean if you weren’t carrying my grandchild?” Monica asked. When Elizabeth nodded, Monica waited another moment before answering. “This isn’t my area of expertise,” she reminded Elizabeth. “I’m going to make some calls and get a recommendation for the best OB/GYN who specializes in high-risk pregnancy, but make no mistake, Elizabeth—this _is_ a high-risk pregnancy. You’re at an elevated risk for another blood clot already, particularly because yours was hormone induced.”

“And adding a condition that elevates the risk even further…I could have a blood clot tomorrow,” Elizabeth murmured.

“You could. I just…” Monica reached for Elizabeth’s hands. “But I think you have time to make a decision. For you and Jason to talk about what it means, to consult a doctor—”

“We talked about children just…just a few weeks ago. I wanted them. I do. But…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Can you make those calls? I’ll…talk to Jason. And we’ll see where we are.”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott** **’s Office**

Scott glanced up from his paperwork as Taggert entered his office, followed by Kelsey. He exhaled slowly and got to his feet. “Judging by the looks on your faces, the tests came in as scheduled.”

“All fourteen rape kits have been processed. A few of them came back negative, but…” Taggert looked at Kelsey before continuing. “We have results in ten of the cases. Seven of them…linked.”

“Seven.” Scott closed his eyes. “All seven under investigation for the park rapes? Isn’t it unusual for—”

“It is,” Kelsey admitted. “But the lab report…” She set the results on his desk. “Apparently the guy didn’t wear a condom in any case at all. Which…can be a signature on its own. He’s…reckless.”

“He thinks he can’t be caught,” Taggert muttered. “And he’s right. Because Elizabeth Webber’s dress came back positive for semen, and her case matches the other six. Guess who got excluded?”

“Fuck me.” Scott perused the report as his stomach continued to twist and turn. “They covered it up. They made her case go away. Why? _Why_ would they cover for Baker?”

“I don’t think they did.” Kelsey took a seat. “You said you talked to the ADA on the Baker case, right?” she said to Taggert. “To Dara Jensen, about the rape kit results?”

“I did. Why?”

“Remember what she said about the media circus around the trial? Baker was accused of blackmailing and holding Edward Quartermaine’s granddaughter hostage.” Kelsey arched a brow. “Did Edward Quartermaine know about the Webber rape case and the accusation against Baker?”

“I—I don’t know why he would have unless Emily had told him. You don’t think—”

“I think it’s possible Edward Quartermaine leaned on Floyd to make sure Baker went away. Floyd leaned on the commissioner. And, I guess, look at it from the commissioner’s standpoint—if he believes Elizabeth Webber, Tom Baker admitted he raped her. And he’s going to trial on slam dunk charges that will put him away for at least twenty-five years, if not more.”

Taggert exhaled slowly. “Meanwhile, we got a rape kit that may or may not come back positive — and if there’s no DNA, it’s her word against his. The rape case was weaker.” He hesitated. “And to be honest, we hadn’t really talked about the case at the department after Baker was arrested. The evidence was weak. Dara didn’t tell us outright she wouldn’t file rape charges, but I think there was already an atmosphere…Baker was going to jail. We didn’t need to spend the time or resources.”

The lieutenant looked away, cleared his throat. “But that doesn’t explain what happened to her case. The dress in the evidence box, the way her case was pushed off the open list—”

“Exactly.” Kelsey leaned forward. “And look, if that had been the case — if everyone involved had agreed not to prosecute the rape because of its overall weakness, that would have been fine. But that’s not what happened. Without testing the kit, there was no way of knowing the strength of the case. All we know for sure is that in November, you were told to make the case inactive. If you’d run that kit and it had come back negative for Baker, it might have brought Elizabeth Webber’s credibility into question.”

“Because if she’s lying about his confession, the defense could have made her look hysterical and unstable. She’s the one holding the gun…” Scott shook his head. “Doesn’t explain the falsified lab report—”

“You said Elizabeth nearly caused a mistrial with her outcry in the court room,” Kelsey said. “Maybe Edward Quartermaine got cold feet about hurrying the case along.”

“Or, maybe he found out for the first time that the charge existed,” Taggert offered. “And Mac and Floyd had to cover their tracks. I—” He shook his head. “I thought I got a real big win when Mac said he’d sent the kit out for testing. Even though he wanted me to shelve it, he’d said he’d send it over. He never intended to do that.”

“It doesn’t make any of it right,” Kelsey said. “And the fact that the commissioner put her case in the closed archives rather than cold storage—it meant that we didn’t make the link. Think about this — the seven cases we have—the first three are spread out.”

“Yeah.” Scott looked at his list of dates. “February 1998. April 1999. January 2000. And then nothing until February 2003.” He tapped his pencil. “Taggert, I know you’ve been holding off telling Elizabeth that the case is reopened, but I think with these results—”

“Yeah, I know. I should tell her today, but…” Taggert shook his head. “Let me leave it for last. I’ll officially reopen the 1999 and 2000 attacks, take those victim statements.”

“And what does the delay give you?” Kelsey asked. “I mean—”

“It doesn’t give me anything. It just gives Elizabeth Webber a few more days, maybe even a whole week before I have to rip open that wound again.” Taggert held out his hand and Kelsey gave him back his copy of the lab report. “And yeah, I know it’s special treatment and maybe I should start with her first because, chronologically, she is the first known—”

“I think, for once, it won’t kill us to give Elizabeth Webber a break,” Scott told Kelsey. “This is a lot to ask her take on, and she may not want to get involved. I mean, what do we tell her about what happened with her file? She thinks her evidence was tested.”

“I don’t know,” Kelsey admitted. “I mean, we don’t know anything for sure.”

“I’m not going to lie to her.” Taggert shook his head. “She’s had enough of that from this department. And if I didn’t want to be kicked off this case or fired, I’d be calling the papers.”

“We’re not leaking to the papers,” Scott said. “It’s bad enough the papers are digging into the other three victims and dragging Brooke’s case out every time Ned Ashton makes a speech. You want Elizabeth in the middle of another media circus? With Ric Lansing out on bail?”

“Fine. But I’m not letting Floyd or Mac get away with this forever, Baldwin. So figure out how you want to play this.”

**Brownstone: Living Room**

Bobbie braced Carly’s elbow as her heavily pregnant daughter lowered herself onto the sofa. “I would have come to you in the penthouse,” Bobbie told her as she sat next to her. “You don’t need to drag yourself out when you’re feeling so tired.”

“Does it show?” Carly bit out as she set her purse next to her and leaned back. “And I needed a break from the penthouse. Sonny is…”

“Driving you crazy?”

“I wish.” Carly sighed. “He’s barely talking to me since Elizabeth and I told Scott that we didn’t want a deal.”

“Is he _that_ angry he’s going to have to wait a few more months for Ric to have an accident in jail?” Bobbie said, rolling her eyes. She crossed into the kitchen as Carly remained seated. “I get that he wants it all over—”

“He’s not mad about that, even though he’d prefer it already be over. He’s mad because I told him…I told him no accidents at all.”

Bobbie hesitated behind the counter where she was pulling out her tea kettle. She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove before rejoining her daughter in the living room. “No accidents _ever_?” she asked.

“I want Ric Lansing to rot away in a small cell for the rest of his life. I want to visit him there and make sure he knows who put him there.” Carly sat up straighter. “Death is too easy. Too quick. I want him to suffer. Is that so goddamn bad?”

“No,” Bobbie admitted. “And now that the image is my head, I have to admit, I like it. Elizabeth…felt the same way?”

“She didn’t talk to you about this?”

“Not really. I knew she didn’t want a deal either, but…”

“Yeah, it’s one of the few things we’ve ever agreed on,” Carly said, with a shrug. “And of course, Jason was on board with it. Whatever she needs, he gives it to her. But I get stuck with Sonny, who’s so goddamn selfish—”

She let her head fall back against the sofa. “I get Sonny’s life, Mama. I _get_ it. And mostly, I don’t give a shit about it. But this happened to _me_. Not him. And it’s getting really old trying to balance worrying about Sonny’s mental health when I’m just trying to get through my own day.”

“Are you…” Bobbie pursed her lips. “Are you still having nightmares? I thought Kevin’s sessions—”

“I’m not sure the nightmares will ever go away,” Carly admitted. “But Kevin taught me how to avoid the panic attacks, to manage the stress. But I’m tired, Mama. You know when you told me you wanted Sonny to get help, and I told you not to worry?”

“Because you and Jason would handle it?”

“Well, I’m thinking about what you said back then. About how that’s not fair. And I thought—well I’m his wife. That’s the role I agreed to. It’s in the vows. And Jason is his best friend. That’s how this is supposed to work. You stand by each other until the bitter end. The thing is…” Carly sighed. “I think I’m starting to get to the bitter end part of it, and I have a feeling Jason isn’t far away. He wants his own life. To put Elizabeth and her needs first. And what kind of bitch would I have to be to demand he put me and my family first? He has his own.”

“Carly—”

“I’m just having a bad day, Mama. So I need…I need a break from Sonny, from that penthouse…because I’m starting to forget why I’m there in the first place.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Renaissance Room**

Alexis walked away from Elton Herbert as the flamboyant and verbose party planner prattled on about the menu for Ned’s fundraiser later that evening.

She might be Ned’s events coordinator (she still wasn’t sure how that had happened) but there was not enough money on God’s green Earth to make her listen to that man for another second.

“Do whatever you want,” she called over her shoulder as Jax, who had been appointed as Ned’s actual campaign manager, entered the room. “Thank God. Tell him to stop asking me about serving caviar or langoustine. I don’t even know what the second thing _is_.”

She pursed her lips, spying Jax’s pensive expression. “What’s wrong?”

Jax sighed, then steered her over to an empty table in the corner of the room. “I’m worried.”

“About what?” Alexis drew her glasses out of the purse she’d left on the table and reached for the sheaf of papers in his hands. “Are those the polls Ned commissioned? It looks like he’s neck and neck with Floyd, which is good considering—” She caught Jax’s eye. “It’s not good? Why?”

“Because…” Jax sighed, leaned against the wall of the room and watched as the workers on the far aside continued to assemble the stage. “Because in two months this campaign will be over.”

“Uh huh.” Alexis shook her head and removed her glasses. “I’m still not seeing the problem, Jasper. With two more months, Ned could easily overtake—” She tipped her head. “I thought we were in agreement on this. Floyd is a boil on the butt of humanity and Ned was the perfect choice to not only clean his clock but to take over.”

“And I still think that. I just worry…that we’re not doing the right thing by Ned,” Jax shook his head. “I don’t know if he’s really…grieved yet. He lost his daughter. He lost his fiancée last year—” he grimaced, obviously remember Ned’s fiancée had been her sister. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s been a very difficult year for all of us,” Alexis offered. “But this is how Ned gets through things. You know that. You only got out of bed after Brenda went over that cliff because your family lost its fortune and you had a goal.”

“Yeah, I had a goal to get back what my family had lost. To rebuild my future,” Jax reminded her. “Ned got into this for revenge. I think, even if he beats Floyd, he’s going to wake up and realize how empty that really is.”

“I don’t know. I got my revenge on Luis Alcazar,” Alexis said, pitching her voice slightly lower. “And that felt damn good then and _still_ feels good now.” Even if she hadn’t entirely meant to shove him over the balcony, oh man, it had been sweet. Apparently, she’d inherited something from her ancestors.

Even if she’d immediately locked it right back up after pretending to have her mental breakdown and losing custody of Kristina. Nothing ever went well when she unleashed her inner Cassadine.

“Don’t remind me,” Jax muttered. “I’m just worried about him. About the day after the campaign. What if he loses?”

“Let’s just get to the end of the campaign,” Alexis suggested. “One day a time, isn’t that what we said we’d do?”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s healthy for him to focus on the campaign. To have a reason to get out of bed. I know you don’t disagree that keeping him busy is the best idea.” Alexis patted his shoulder. “This isn’t something we can fix, Jax. All we can do is follow his lead and be there when he falls down.”

**Kelsey** **’s Apartment: Dining Room**

Somehow, without Kelsey realizing it, her life had fallen into a routine. Working the serial rapist case full-time had allowed for a regular working schedule for Lucky, which meant they finished their day about the same time. Lucky had started to wait for her outside the Municipal Building, across the street from the department.

She’d driven them back to her place where they both compared notes on their day, on the cases, over dinner. Then they’d go to bed—together. And start over the next day.

They weren’t living together—it was way too soon for that but for right now, they were both eating, breathing, living with this case and somehow, being together made the horrors bearable.

The day the DNA matches came in, they didn’t talk about in the car. Lucky talked about his brother who was coming home in a few days while Kelsey related how much she was looking forward to her mother driving up for dinner again.

But once they got home, spread out their files along with their dinner from Kelly’s, the light banter had ceased. Lucky stared down at his case notes, brooding as Kelsey studied her court docket for the next day.

“You feel guilty,” Kelsey said after a long period of quiet. She pushed her spoon around the bowl of chili. “Because Taggert still doesn’t want to tell Elizabeth.”

“I guess.” Lucky shrugged. “I mean, I get his argument. I understood it back in July. Until we had physical evidence, what was the point of dragging her into this, but we have it now. And Elizabeth would at least sit down with us. She’d give us a statement.”

“Taggert still having issues getting the others to agree to a follow-up?”

“He’s trying to find Logan and Lopez now. They moved out of town, and Taggert’s having trouble finding family members to ask.” He reached for a notebook. “Watson, Norton, and Morris weren’t returning our calls two months ago. What makes anyone think they’ll change their mind now?”

“You don’t think Taggert could persuade them?”

“He could.” Lucky sighed. “I guess I just—I’m not in a hurry to bring that back for her. But waiting for the others to give their statements just delays our progress—”

“I think it’s more that Taggert hasn’t figured out how to tell Elizabeth her case is opened again without explaining why suddenly we have a DNA profile we didn’t have before. Unless he lies to her, she’ll know something happened.” Kelsey shrugged. “He’s taking her case personally. The way you are. And neither one of you wants to let her down. So he’s waiting until he has all the evidence before he has to come clean.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Lucky asked, eyebrows raised.

“I think…” Kelsey looked down at her case notes, at the collection of photographs she kept just inside the top folder—a photo of every single victim prior to their attack. She kept them there to remind herself that they came first, and that everything they did was for them. “I think that after the PCPD screwed up their cases in the first place, the least we can do is avoid further harm. We don’t have a suspect, Lucky. We don’t have a lead. Do you want to tell Elizabeth that we’re reopening her case with nothing more than what we could have had five years ago?”

“I guess. I just don’t want her to fall through the cracks again.”

**Port Charles Mall: AMC Movie Theater**

It was the first time they’d attempted to have another movie night since Brooke’s rape two months earlier. They’d gone to the mall in the middle of the day, deciding that it would be different enough to keep their minds off that tragedy.

Only Lucas hadn’t really taken into account just how much had changed since that sweltering July night. Maxie had brought Kyle again, but Lucas wasn’t paying that much attention to him. Not since Maxie and Georgie had both suggested he bring Felix.

Lulu had also joined them, sitting with Dillon and looking cozy, which gave Georgie an excuse to glare at the blond who, up until two weeks ago, been one of their closest friends. Lucas didn’t know if his cousin was dating Dillon or not, but Lu liked to cause drama. So she’d hung over him maybe a bit more than she might have otherwise, sharing his popcorn and laughing at any joke, no matter how feeble.

“How long before she goes for the hair?” Felix murmured in his ear as the movie lights dimmed and Georgie got in one more shot about how hard Mac was working that day, which only made Dillon tense more. His cousin really was an idiot, Lucas thought with a grimace.

“Oh, let’s hope we at least get through the movie. I’m not in the mood to get kicked out of another one.”

They managed to get all the way through Maxie’s pick, _Intolerable Cruelty_, but even she was wrinkling her nose when they filed out of the theater and into the mall at large. “Ugh, that should have been better. It’s a romantic comedy. Why do I not feel flirty and happy?”

“Maybe it’s the company,” Georgie said. “Can we go now?”

Maxie huffed at her younger sister, then turned her back to look at the rest of them. “Wanna go to Kelly’s or the food court?”

“I’m going home,” Georgie announced. “I have work to do. _Some_ of us want to graduate college.” A flick of glance in Lulu’s direction made it clear who she meant.

“Oh, get off it, Jones. We only started classes a week ago,” Lulu said. She rolled her eyes. “You need to get a grip.”

“_You_ need to—”

Lucas stepped in front Georgie as she stepped forward while Kyle edged preemptively in front of Lulu. “Let’s just calm down.”

“Oh, relax,” Georgie said, with a roll of her eyes. “No one is gonna stalk off in a sulk—” she pressed her lips closed as the group stilled and Dillon’s already irritated expression grew more furious. “Whatever. I’m going home.”

She stormed off towards one of the mall entrances, leaving the rest of them to stare after her. “Ironically,” Kyle offered, “she’s storming—”

“We all caught it,” Maxie said, pressing her lips over her boyfriend’s mouth. “Don’t mansplain it.”

“Mansplain—”

“_Anyway_,” Lulu said, with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Can we go to back to the part where we get lunch? I’m starving.”

They opted for the food court, then went off in different directions to get their food. Maxie and Lulu headed for Salad Works while Felix and Lucas decided to get Chinese food.

Kyle followed Dillon to the burger stand, and as they waited their turn, he cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry about Georgie.”

“Why are you sorry?” Dillon muttered. “We broke up two months ago. And Lulu is our friend. She’s been Georgie’s friend longer than I’ve known either of them.”

“Who didn’t mind playing up the new girlfriend role,” Kyle offered. “No, I mean, it just…it sucks that she’s taking it this way. I mean, Maxie is messed up about Mac, too. All the crap that’s been in the press. She’s…” he hesitated. “She’s cried a few times about it. Says Mac’s a great guy, but she doesn’t understand why he didn’t tell them. So she could have warned Brooke, too.”

“She gets it then.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she _likes_ it.” Kyle jerked a shoulder as they moved up in the line. “And you know it’s been a lot worse with your brother running for mayor. It’s on the news, it’s in the papers. And Georgie’s…she’s always been a…” he trailed off.

Dillon eyed Maxie’s boyfriend, wondering when he’d stopped being annoyed by him. Maybe it had been Kyle’s steadiness in the park that terrible night or later, after Lucas had introduced them to Felix, Kyle had been the first to suggest Felix come to the next group thing.

“Maxie’s made a lot of mistakes in her life,” Dillon said after a moment. “Gotten into trouble. Done dumb things. It’s easier for her to see that other people aren’t perfect.”

“But the thing this—with Mac in the papers all the time, it just means Brooke’s still in the papers. And I know you guys knew that would happen when Ned decided to run, but still—I’m sorry, man, but every time I read another account about how she left us while we were arguing, I get angry at myself all over again. I don’t know what the hell Lucas and I were thinking. Or why it seemed so important.”

“Maxie and I were bickering, too. We were all ignoring Brooke.” Dillon stepped up to the counter and put in his food order. When he and Kyle had moved over to the pick up window, he took a deep breath. “Lucky Spencer told me that it might take a long time to forgive myself. That even though I know, logically, it wasn’t our fault…”

“It still feels like it is,” Kyle finished. “Yeah. Well, I know all about not being able forgive yourself for the dumb stuff you actually do. What happened with Maxie—”

“Is not something anybody but Maxie needs to forgive you for,” Dillon interrupted. He looked back at the table where Maxie and Lulu had returned to. “Can you get Maxie to call Georgie in a few more minutes? Make sure she got home okay?”

“Yeah, but I bet that’s why she’s pulling out her cell phone now.” They picked up their food and headed back to the table.

**Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth told herself to put it away for a few hours, to stop thinking about Monica’s announcement, and the implications of it until she could talk to Jason after he got done work.

She had to stop herself several times from going straight to the warehouse and dumping this on him, but truth be told…

She didn’t know what Jason would do when she told him she was pregnant. Because as much as she wanted to be happy—she was _terrified_. She’d gone to the library and checked out a bunch of pregnancy books, pouring over the side effects and all the possibilities. She’d tried a few Internet searches while there—she still didn’t have a computer of her own—but everything seemed to tell her she was dying.

Instead of calming her down, the fact that pulmonary embolisms were listed as a side effect in every single pregnancy book only worried her more. Did that mean they happened a lot? And apparently, they were more common after birth, which meant her baby might live but Elizabeth would die.

And was that a risk she wanted to take? Was it a risk Jason would be on board for?

She thought about talking to Bobbie or Emily, even calling Nikolas, but she managed to keep the phone on the hook. Jason deserved to get this news first. Even if she didn’t know exactly what to tell him or what he might say.

Finally, around six, Jason walked through the door. He offered a smile as he pulled off his jacket and hung it in the closet next to her door. “Hey.” He joined her in the kitchen where she was perusing the freezer and their selection of frozen pizzas. He kissed her, his hand cupping her jaw. “What’d you do today?”

“Um…” Elizabeth closed the freezer door. “I had my appointment with Monica.”

“Right, the two-month checkup. You said something about it this morning.” Jason followed her out of the kitchen, his brow furrowing. “How did it go?”

“Um, good. I think.” She turned to Jason. “Monica…had to run a secondary test, though. To check out one of my results—” God, why was she stalling?

“Is everything okay?” Jason asked, his voice sharpening. “Elizabeth—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” She sat on the sofa, to stop herself from pacing. “I guess it’s just…I don’t know. I’m pregnant.”

“Preg—” Jason closed his mouth and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “How—what—”

“Turns out the condoms we use are from ELQ, and Monica said they’re going to recall them for…you know, not actually doing their job—” Elizabeth twisted her fingers together. “It’s yours—”

“_Of course_ it’s mine,” Jason said with an irritated frown. “Why—” He exhaled slowly. “Right. Because you were drugged and not sure—but they would have known in the hospital in July.” He exhaled slowly. “Okay. What…what does that mean? I remember from Carly’s pregnancy that one of the possible side effects—”

“Long story short is that I’m already at risk for another PE. Pregnancy makes that risk higher, but Monica said she didn’t know exactly _how_ high. And she said there was…other issues. My recovery was long and I had heart issues…” Elizabeth shook her head. “She didn’t say it, but I think she was a lot more concerned than she let on.”

“Yeah.” Jason took a deep breath. “What…does she think—” he swallowed hard. “I mean, what do you think—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us. Monica said we should make an appointment with an OB/GYN who specializes in high-risk pregnancies.” Elizabeth watched as he pushed himself off the coffee table and started to pace. “She said, um, she—”

“High-risk pregnancy,” Jason repeated. He dragged his hands through his hair before letting his hands, still laced together, rest at the back of his neck. “Elizabeth—”

“She didn’t _say _it was too soon after what happened,” Elizabeth offered as she got to her feet. “But she also said if we’d wanted to plan it, she’d have recommended a year. Not…two months.” Her eyes burned. “You’re mad.”

“Mad—” Jason’s hands fell at his side as he crossed back to her and drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m not—I’m not doing this right. I’m not mad. Why would I be mad? We didn’t plan this. We were careful.” He edged away from her slightly, to frame her face with his hands. “Listen. I’m _not_ mad,” he repeated. “I’m…worried.”

“Me, too.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “We talked about this. We both agreed we wanted children.”

“Yeah, but—” Jason closed his mouth. “Whatever you decide, Elizabeth. I’ll support you.”

“But what do you want?” she asked, covering his hands with her own. “Jason—”

“I want you,” he told her. “And I want you to be happy. At the end of the day…” he swallowed hard. “That’s all that matters.”

“But…” She bit her lip. “I’ll guess we’ll wait for Monica to recommend an OB and see what they say, right?”

“Right.”

She wanted desperately to ask him if he was even a little bit happy about having a baby with her, but she was afraid of what he’d say. Whatever she decided, Jason had told her. She hadn’t even realized a decision was on the table. Did Jason want her to get an abortion?

Did _she_ want an abortion?

But she couldn’t ask him that. He would never tell her what he thought—after all—he’d support whatever decision she made.

But supporting a decision and living with it were two different things.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to smile. “I’m not in the mood to make dinner. How about we order some Chinese?”


	19. Chapter Thirty-Eight

_What if I told your lies_  
_What if you cried with my eyes_  
_Could anyone keep us down_  
_What if you were me_  
_What if I were you_  
_What if your hand was my hand_  
_Could we hold on and let go_  
_What if your life was my life_  
_Can we love what we don't know_  
\- What If, Five For Fighting

* * *

_Tuesday, September 9, 2003_

**Quartermaine Estate: Garden**

“Ugh. Why did I become a doctor again?” Emily demanded as she flopped down on the wicker loveseat next to Lila’s wheelchair and across from Elizabeth, seated in a wicker armchair. She’d just worked an overnight shift at General Hospital. “You know, Mom and Dad made this crap look easy—”

“I tried to remind you you’re not a morning person,” Elizabeth said with a half-smile as she accepted the lemonade Reginald handed her before he refilled Lila’s glass and poured one for Emily. “But you wanted to be a doctor.”

“You love to say I told you so,” Emily muttered as she sipped her drink. “Hi, Grandmother.”

“Hello, dear. It’s nice of you to join us,” Lila said with her usual gracious smile. “Despite how tired you are. It makes me happy to have my darling girl home.” She hesitated. “I only wish Brooke Lynn could be here.”

“I know,” Emily said. “Lucky doesn’t talk much about the investigation, but at least there haven’t been more attacks.” She looked at Elizabeth. “What did you want to talk about? It sounded serious on the phone earlier.”

Elizabeth paused, unsure if she wanted to get into it around Lila, not wanting to worry the elderly woman after everything she had been through this summer. But she had always appreciated the relationship Lila had with the rest of the Quartermaines, especially Jason and Emily. “I had my check up with Monica yesterday, and she told me something I wasn’t really expecting.” She bit her lip. “I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” Emily repeated, her eyes widening. She traded a look with her grandmother who, to her credit, looked as apprehensive as Elizabeth felt. “That’s…is that safe? I mean…”

“Monica said it’s not her area,” Elizabeth said. “And she wants me to talk to someone to specializes in high-risk pregnancies because…”

“Forgive me, my dear,” Lila said gently. “Is there a precise health concern or is Monica worried you haven’t entirely recovered?”

Remembering that Lila had had her children in the 1940s and might not be familiar with the risks they knew about now, Elizabeth told her about the blood clots and risk factors of embolisms in pregnancy as well as the probability that faulty condoms from an ELQ company might be to blame for the surprise. “The thing this, Monica said this isn’t an area that’s been studied a lot.”

“Yeah, women’s health is, like, at the bottom of the list,” Emily said, grimacing. “Robin complains about it when we email each other. She wants to specialize in medical research, but she had trouble getting funding for anything that didn’t benefit men more.” She rolled her eyes. “And God forbid we study pregnancy — I mean, women only keep the species going—”

“Darling,” Lila said, bringing Emily back to the conversation. She looked back to Elizabeth. “So there isn’t a lot that Monica can tell you?”

“Beyond the fact that, having already suffered a pulmonary embolism accompanied with cardiac arrest and a mild heart attack—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, because she couldn’t understand how that was her life. How that was now _her_ medical history. “Having had those conditions, my risk level is elevated. There’s some thought that it drops after a year, then further after five. But nothing right on point about percentages.”

“And I guess she doesn’t really feel qualified to tell you how pregnancy might raise that risk factor,” Emily offered. “I mean, it does, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. She thought so. I could have a blood clot tomorrow. Six months. Right after the birth. And I think she’s also worried about the stress on my heart and my lungs.” Elizabeth rubbed a restless hand against her chest. “Jason and I talked about having kids down the road, but this…this feels so soon.”

“What does Jason say, my dear?” Lila asked.

“All the right things,” Elizabeth said, shrugging one shoulder. “He’ll support me whatever I decide, but…he’s not telling me what he actually thinks. Maybe he’s afraid to sway me either way.”

“Maybe,” Emily admitted. “But you know he’s been…you guys have argued more than once about your health and recovery. He’s tried to step back from worrying too much.”

“I just…I don’t know _what_ I want to do.” Elizabeth set her glass down on the little table in the middle before staring down at her lap, at her hands tightly clasped. “I want children. After the miscarriage, I knew it was something I _really_ wanted. And Jason was such a good father to Michael. I know he wants children, too. But…”

“But at what cost?” Emily asked, tilting her head. “You’d be insane not to think about the alternatives, Elizabeth. There’s no law that says you have to have this baby because the Quartermaines are bad at making condoms.”

“I just…those last few hours before I collapsed — the chest pains, the struggle to breathe. I can remember that last phone call with Jason, trying to find the button to free Carly—and then everything just goes dark. I don’t even remember, not really, laying on the floor, talking to him. Waiting for the paramedics. And then when I woke up, it hurt to breathe. It took me almost a week before I could walk down the halls in the hospital. Two weeks before I could go home.”

“You came so close to dying.” Emily leaned forward. “I can still remember the fear in Bobbie’s voice when we talked on the phone, and I was terrified you might die before I could get home. Mom said it was that close. You almost died, Elizabeth. Don’t blame yourself for not wanting to do something that puts that back on the table.”

“But what if the way I feel is just that? It’s an emotion. I’m terrified, Emily,” Elizabeth admitted. “I don't want to die…but I also don’t to turn away from something I know that I want because of how scared I am.”

She waited a long moment before continuing. “And I also…I’m also scared that if I were to—if I decided to terminate the pregnancy, I don’t know if that’s something Jason can live with.”

“I think,” Emily said, carefully, “that Jason would probably be okay. He’s always been logical about these kinds of things. If having kids right now is a risk to your life, can you honestly see Jason telling you he’d rather have the chance at a child than you?”

“No, but…” She bit her lip. “I don’t know. And I don’t even know how long I have to make up my mind.”

“I think you’re right,” Emily told her. “That right now, everything is an emotion. Mom even said this isn’t something she can really talk about with any expertise. She can talk about conditions to minimize another PE, but she doesn’t know if there are ways to do that with pregnancy. Make the appointment with the OB/GYN. Maybe what you’re worried about isn’t as bad as you think. Maybe it is. But at this point—”

“It’s _all_ just worry and fears.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I can live with that. Wait to talk to the doctor.”

“And, my darling,” Lila said, “whatever you decide in the end, this family will support you.” She offered her hand. Elizabeth grasped it, taking her first easy breath since her appointment the day before.

**Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office**

Jason had planned to talk to Sonny about Elizabeth’s pregnancy when he got to work that morning, hoping that Sonny might have something…anything to offer him in the way of comfort or advice. He’d always been able to take his problems to Sonny in the beginning of their friendship, but Jason could see now he’d been doing that less and less over the last few years—

And Sonny had drifted away from him in a lot of ways, becoming less and less concerned with Jason’s life. When Carly had gone missing that summer, Jason’s entire life had become laser focused on getting her back. Elizabeth had been kidnapped the previous summer, and Sonny had offered little to no help at all.

It was frustrating to admit that Jason wasn’t sure exactly when their friendship had gone off the rails — maybe it was wrong to blame Sonny when Jason knew he’d stopped talking to Sonny in a lot of ways after that terrible December night when Carly had waltzed down the penthouse stairs, clad only in a badly buttoned dress shirt.

When Jason arrived at the office, however, Sonny was already complaining to Bernie and Johnny O’Brien, one of their guys in charge of security, about an argument he’d had with Carly.

When Jason appeared in the doorway, Sonny scowled and gestured at him, saying to Bernie and Johnny, “And look, here’s someone _else_ who doesn’t seem to get it! That fucker has to die!”

Johnny glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eye, lifting his brows slightly as if to offer an apology.

“We’ve been over this,” Johnny said, patiently. “You don’t want to give the PCPD any reason to look at us while Bernie and Justus are still getting the paperwork in order. We had six months without a business manager and full-time attorney.”

“I’m tired of sitting around and waiting. You saw how the system worked against Elizabeth,” Sonny shot at Jason. “Taking you off her case, putting her under Ric’s control—”

“For less than a day,” Jason retorted. “But we got it back. And forget the heat the PCPD would put on us, I’m not convinced that going after Ric wouldn’t also put Trevor Lansing on us. We don’t know if he was involved in any of it—”

“Oh, I thought it _wasn’t_ business,” Sonny drawled, raising his brows in a truly impressive display of sarcastic concern. “You told me it was personal—”

“Kidnapping Carly was,” Jason insisted. “If she’d been part of the plan, no way in hell she’s put in a panic room and kept there. But Ric came to town working with Faith Roscoe. Trevor called him to Crimson Point right at the beginning of all of this. Lansing might just need an excuse to give Zacchara to justify going after us. We don’t know that yet.”

He shook his head. “Right now, everything is quiet. No one is making any noises about Ric being free and alive. Business is moving along. Carly’s in her third trimester, and Elizabeth—”

Jason pressed his lips together. Was this even the time to tell Sonny that Elizabeth was pregnant? That she might end up in a high-risk pregnancy where stress needed to be avoided at all costs?

“I promised Elizabeth and Carly that I would do what they needed when it came to Ric,” Jason reminded Sonny. “I’m not breaking it.”

“Who the hell are _you_ to promise _my_ wife anything?” Sonny demanded.

Johnny and Bernie traded glances at each other that Sonny caught. He turned his attention back to them. “Oh, yeah, I get it. Jason’s the guy that found her so he gets to be in charge, right? Is that what you’re thinking?”

“I’m not thinking anything,” Johnny said quickly. “It’s not my job to think.”

“Damn right,” Sonny muttered. He looked at Jason. “Is that what this is? You want to be in charge? You don’t trust my judgement?”

How the hell had it gotten to this? Jason blinked, trying to understand exactly what Sonny’s problem was.

“When it comes to Ric, no,” he admitted. “You’re angry at yourself for not taking care of him in May. I’m angry at myself, too. We could have spared everyone a lot of grief. But you had your reasons then, and I agreed to let you deal with it. Because Ric was your brother. _Your_ problem to fix.”

Jason shook his head. “But he didn’t just go after you. He went after Carly. Your wife. Twice. He went after your sister. But he nearly killed Elizabeth. Twice. He drugged her for months, Sonny, and then he assaulted her. All Elizabeth ever did was help us. She put her life on the line to bring Carly home. Because of me. Because of you. And because that’s who she is. The night Carly went missing—”

Sonny exhaled slowly closing her eyes. “She was barely able to stand on her feet, but she took our side. Refused to leave. Wanted to help.” He sank into the chair behind his desk. Behind Jason, Johnny and Bernie both left without another word.

“You think I don’t want Ric gone?” Jason asked, a bit more quietly. “I want him out of our lives, too. But that’s not going to make this over. Just having him killed isn’t going to end the nightmares for Carly or Elizabeth. They want their day in court. To face him. And then they want him to die in prison. That’s what they need. And after Elizabeth nearly died, after seeing the room Carly was held in, I have no issues letting them get what they need.”

Sonny didn’t say anything, so Jason continued. “Elizabeth found out yesterday that she’s pregnant.”

His partner’s head snapped up at that. “What? Now? It’s—” He shook his head. “It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

“It…wasn’t planned,” Jason said, not willing to go into the clusterfuck of ELQ and their faulty condoms. “With everything else that’s going on, after what happened with Brooke this summer, her sessions with Gail, the last thing I’m going to do is pressure her into doing something that makes _my_ life easier. You can do whatever you want with Carly, but I’m not breaking my promise to Elizabeth. Not ever again.”

When Sonny had nothing else to say, Jason just left.

**Manhattan: Courtney** **’s Apartment**

Courtney stepped back to let her sister-in-law in, then hugged her nephew as Michael followed her, all bright smiles and happiness. She’d been surprised to hear from Carly—the first time since Courtney had moved from Port Charles to the city three weeks earlier but had agreed immediately to host Carly and Michael for a visit.

Sonny, Carly had informed her tersely, was not available.

After dinner with Michael, Courtney settled him in the guest room he would share with his mother before settling on the sofa with Carly in the living room. “So what brings you down to the city?”

Carly scowled. “I can’t visit my best friend? You moved. I missed you.”

Carly probably hadn’t thought much about her since Courtney had left the penthouse, but she let it slide. It wasn’t Carly’s fault, and one entered friendship with Carly realizing that she was relatively selfish. “Okay. Then tell me about the baby. How do you feel?”

“Like a parade float,” Carly muttered. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I needed to get away from Sonny. From my mother. From everyone. I feel like they’re all screaming I told you so and I am just…really not in the mood, you know?”

“Sonny still having issues?” Courtney asked quietly as she tucked one leg underneath her. “He was so angry after you came home. I mean, after the relief had passed. And I know he was pissed about what you and Liz wanted to do about Ric. Is that still an issue?”

“We don’t talk about it anymore,” Carly admitted. “He’s angry that I don’t seem to get how hard this was for him, and I guess—I guess I don’t get it. I don’t get how he thinks what he went through is so much more important than me. And if what happened to him—”

“The breakdown?” Courtney asked. “He hallucinated Lily, Carly. It was terrifying to see him like that. I honestly thought he’d be…”

“Committed?” Carly asked dryly. “Yeah, well…I used to think it was just…part of the marriage vows. For better or for worse. In sickness and health and all of that, but I guess…” She picked at the seam of the sofa. “I guess I took it for granted that the sickness part of that meant he would try to make himself better. Mama asked me why it was anyone else’s job but Sonny’s to give a damn about his mental health? Jason’s at the end of his rope—they’re arguing all the time.”

“Because Jason agrees with you,” Courtney said slowly, then sighed. “And because he probably promised Elizabeth he’d handle it her way.”

“Basically. And Sonny is just…so angry at all of us. Maybe I’m being selfish. If this bothers him so much—”

“Because Sonny’s a control freak,” Courtney said bluntly. “And that was clear this summer. Look, I made mistakes. And I—handled everything wrong. But Sonny fell apart. And _that_ drives him insane. He couldn’t fix it. He’s not the one who brought you home. That was — that was Jason and Elizabeth. Your mother. Even Nikolas Cassadine who doesn’t even know you. All of them did more than Sonny. Demanding to deal with Ric, Carly? That’s Sonny trying to control everything again. And I’m sorry, but you’re not obligated to play into that.”

Carly bit her lip. “But—”

“I’m not denying that Sonny had a breakdown. That he was traumatized by the whole thing,” Courtney told her. “But you know what? It’s bullshit that he’s got you thinking you got to step back from something you need to make things better for him. When the hell is it your turn? You were kidnapped. Threatened with death. Locked in a room.” She shook her head. “Sonny should go see a therapist, figure out what’s wrong him, get on medicine, or whatever. But he needs to stop taking this out on you and Jason.”

Carly lifted her brows. “Where is this coming from?” she asked, shaking her head. “You and Sonny—”

“I don’t matter to Sonny,” Courtney told her. “Except as something he thinks he owns. I left Port Charles and you know what? He doesn’t call. He hasn’t bothered once. Bernie helped me sign the paperwork for this place, and my alimony from AJ is taking care of the bills for right now until I get a decent job. But my so-called brother only gave a damn about me when I was doing what he wanted.”

She took a deep breath. “Time and distance from Port Charles, even after three weeks, it’s put things into perspective. I didn’t like the person I was turning into there, Carly. Being around Sonny—having my life revolve around the rules necessary to be part of it—it was driving me out of my mind. I was going to marry a man who didn’t love me—who I _knew _didn’t love me—because it brought me closer to Sonny. I deserve better than that, you know? And so do you.”

She got up from the sofa and peered out the window. “You said Elizabeth agreed with you about wanting to testify, about wanting Ric to rot in prison.”

“Yes,” Carly said, her tone hesitant. She rubbed her belly absently. “So what?”

“Do you know if she had to talk Jason into it? Or did she explain herself and he said, yes. That’s it. You need this, so this is what we’ll do.” Courtney looked back at her sister-in-law. “Because he loves her. Because he loves you. He’s not just fighting with Sonny over a promise he made to Elizabeth, is he?”

“No,” Carly admitted quietly. “He promised me the same. And he told me that Elizabeth—that she said if I wanted Ric gone, it was up to me. She’d do whatever I need.” She shook her head. “Sanctimonious little martyr,” she muttered, but the words were without heat and almost an automatic defense. Carly didn’t bend easily.

“Everyone traumatized by this summer, Carly, is on your side. Jason and Elizabeth want what you need. Bobbie probably wants what you need. Everyone else who matters agrees with you. So why is it that you think _you_ need to change for Sonny?”

**Condo: Living Room**

Elizabeth was frowning at a pot of sauce on the stove when Jason got home from work that night. One of the few recipes he’d taught her was a simple tomato sauce—because, as she’d said to him with a roll of her eyes—even an idiot could boil pasta.

“What’s wrong with the sauce?” he asked, after tossing his jacket over the back of the sofa. “You look like it’s burning.”

“I think I did something wrong,” she muttered. She held out a spoon for him to taste and his eyes nearly crossed at the amount of salt. “Yeah, see? I don’t know how that much salt got in there, but it’s there and it’s ruining—”

“Let’s just heat up the lasagna from the other night,” he suggested, kissing the top of her forehead. She turned off the burner, then switched the oven on for preheat. “Did you go to see Lila today?”

“Yeah, but it’s already starting to get too chilly to sit in the garden,” Elizabeth said, leaning against the counter. “At least for Lila. We’ll probably have to move inside in another week or so. Emily stopped by, too.” She bit her lip. “I told them about…” She looked away. “I told them,” she repeated.

“I told Sonny,” Jason admitted. He pulled the foil-wrapped lasagna from the refrigerator and set it on the counter, waiting for the oven to beep. “Not all of it. We were arguing about Ric again.”

“Still?” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “It feels like that should be settled. I mean—if Carly changes her mind, fine. But I don’t get—” She crossed her arms. “I mean, I guess I get why Sonny’s still mad, but what good does it do at this point?”

“Not much.” Jason glanced at her, then busied himself doing the few dishes left in the sink from breakfast. “What did Emily and Lila say?”

“I think when we talked about it yesterday,” Elizabeth said slowly, “part of you wanted to put an option on the table but you didn’t want to say it outright. When you said you’d support whatever decision I made, you meant…you meant I could have an abortion.”

The kitchen was quiet for a long moment as Jason thought carefully about his next words. He set the last plate in the dish rack, then dried his hands. “I—” He shook his head, turned back to face her. “Yeah. I guess I think it should be an option.”

“I think so, too,” Elizabeth said softly. “I was afraid to say it out loud. Because I know a baby is something we’ve both talked about wanting. At some point. And it feels like we got this surprise, and instead of being happy, we’ve both immediately—”

She shook her head and sat at the table. He joined her, sitting next to her. “We both immediately went to the risks. And I’m afraid that if we went through with the pregnancy, that’s what it would be. We wouldn’t be happy about the baby. We’d be scared all the time.”

He opened his mouth, then realized he didn’t really have anything to say to that. Because of course that was probably true. Hadn’t her health taken over everything since she’d left the hospital? The oxygen mask he still insisted on keeping ready on the side table despite not needing it for the last two weeks. The way he still took her pulse sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention.

Sometimes he woke with a start in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep until he was sure that her chest was rising and falling.

Keeping Elizabeth healthy had taken over almost all of his waking hours since she’d nearly died, and she was probably right—the next eight or nine months probably meant more of the same.

“And I have to admit, Jason—part of me is terrified that we’re _right_ to worry. That…I could decide to take a risk and then maybe I get an embolism at five months or six months. And maybe I don’t get a miracle. Maybe this time that’s it.” Her voice broke. “And then you’re not just burying me, but the baby. And what if I get through labor, then have a clot? It happens then. Maybe the next clot will be an aneurysm in my brain.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d once been so good at ignoring the what-ifs, preferring to focus on the here and now. You couldn’t control the future, couldn’t stop it, so why bother trying?

But every one of those scenarios had run through his mind since she’d told him the news and probably a thousand other possibilities.

“If you’re worried about what I’d think if you decided to have an abortion,” Jason said slowly, “I told you. I need _you_ here. Alive. Healthy. Whatever we have to do is worth that to me. We could adopt. There are surrogates—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips to quiet him. “And once I admitted that part of my fear was if you’d leave me if I didn’t have this child, if maybe I decided I never wanted to risk—I realized how insane that was. We’ve been through too much for any of that.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m scared, Jason. Because I _don__’t_ want to die. I feel like I’ve finally figured out my life, and I’m exactly where I want to be, you know?”

“So, you’re not going—”

“I also don’t want to live my life in fear,” she continued, cutting him off with a shake of her head. “Right now, that’s all you and I have. The fear. We don’t know if there’s a way we can go forward and feel confident.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I mean, part of me feels like I got a miracle when I lived through the cardiac arrest and everything Ric did to me. What if that’s it? What if that’s the only miracle I get?”

Jason tugged her off the chair and onto his lap so he could wrap his arms around her, holding her as the sobs silently shook her shoulders.

“I don’t think that’s how miracles work,” he murmured, his cheek pressed against hers. “Everything inside of me is screaming at you not to take this risk. That nothing is worth the chance I might lose you.”

She drew back slightly so that their noses were touching. She framed his face with her hands, delicately wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “I don’t want to live my life running away from everything that scares me. I ran away from you. Twice. I want to stop running, Jason.”

He nodded, understanding where she was going with this. “You’re saying we don’t have enough information to make this kind of decision.”

“Having a family is _our_ dream, Jason. And yeah, you and me? That’s enough for me. Because I love you and I know that you love me. But we both want children. And the universe…I can’t believe the universe would be so cruel to give this to us when we weren’t expecting it. So…Monica called and told me that she’d arranged for an appointment with a doctor at the hospital later this week. She’s one of the best in the state. And we’ll…take it one step at a time.”

“Okay.” Jason nodded. “Okay.” Behind them, the oven beeped, and he sighed. “I’ll go put in dinner. We should both eat.”

She lifted herself off his lap and watched as he went back into the kitchen. “Jason, if we decide to keep the baby, promise me that we’ll try to be more excited than we are scared.”

“I—” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can promise that.” Jason looked at her, feeling a bit helpless at her undaunted courage because he knew—even if she didn’t—that somewhere inside of her, she’d already made the choice. “But I will love you and the baby, and we’ll get through it together.”


	20. Chapter Thirty-Nine

_All around me are familiar faces_  
_Worn out places, worn out faces_  
_Bright and early for their daily races_  
_Going nowhere, going nowhere_  
_Their tears are filling up their glasses_  
_No expression, no expression_  
_Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow_  
_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_  
\- Mad World, Gary Jules

* * *

_Wednesday, September 10, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Vinnie shook his head vehemently as he read through the report Taggert had written, linking together the first trio of cases. “No way in hell,” he muttered as he flipped through the statements. “No way I could have made the connection. They were months, years apart. The profiles didn’t match—”

Taggert sighed, rubbed his eyes. “No one is blaming you for not linking these,” he told the younger man, patiently. It was a demoralizing feeling to know that you had failed the people you were supposed to protect, even when you were doing your best to do the job. “You were a patrol officer when the Webber and Lopez cases happened—”

“I—” Vinnie exhaled slowly. “But I should have seen it, I guess. All in the park. All near a fountain.” He shifted at his desk, uncomfortable. “And there’s DNA?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think we’d get hits on all the cases, but maybe this asshole is either dumb as a rock or too cocky that we won’t catch him.” Taggert shrugged. “After five years, he’s probably just used to getting away with it. That’s why he’s not changing his signature.”

“Signature?” Vinnie frowned. “What, the fountain?”

“He’s hit all four fountains almost twice. The only one he hasn’t gone after again is the Martin Memorial for some reason.” Taggert rubbed his chin.

“Well it wasn’t there before 2001.” Vinnie furrowed his brow. “Yeah — I think they built it after I moved to Buffalo. I remember coming home that summer and reading about it.”

“So, he hasn’t gotten around to it.” Taggert made a notation to double check that information. “Well, we got uniforms all over the park now. He won’t be able to do this crap again.”

Vinnie was quiet for a long moment. “I thought they caught the guy in the Webber case,” he said finally. “What’s the deal with that?”

“It’s a long story,” Taggert replied, leaving it at that. “Look, no one blames you—”

“You don’t blame me, maybe, but I bet when this hits the papers, the mayor is going to come for my ass. Ashton is kicking him up and down the street in the polls now.” Vinnie shook his head. “No, they’re going to make _me_ the bad guy.”

“Maybe,” Taggert allowed, but he privately agreed. Floyd was nothing if not selfish and conniving. He’d already sacrificed innocent women to maintain his public profile. What were the odds a lazy, idiot cop like Vinnie would escape the pressure? “Look, I’ll do what I can. You’re not on this case officially which should smooth a lot of feathers. If they think you screwed up before, we’ll just remind them what you were working with. An understaffed unit without much of a budget for lab work.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s time to think about a transfer,” Vinnie muttered. “I never should have come back to Port Charles. What a goddamn waste of my time.”

**General Hospital: Monica** **’s Office**

Monica was both pleased and a little bit worried when her receptionist reported that her son was there to see her. In the months since Carly’s kidnapping and Elizabeth’s illness, she was happy that her relationship with Jason had taken a more positive turn but that didn’t mean he dropped in for no reason at all.

She’d been thinking about Jason and Elizabeth since Elizabeth’s appointment a few days earlier, worrying over them. She’d even spent some time with Lila and Emily as they worried together. She worried Elizabeth might make a decision she’d regret later—or that this might lead to a setback and another blood clot.

There was only so much Monica could control with medical treatments. So much of medicine was still up to the individual and the universe.

“Jason, hello. I wasn’t expecting you.” She embraced him lightly and quickly, which he allowed, and she savored. “I don’t have to guess why you’re here.”

“I know you can’t tell me anything about her case,” Jason told her as they sat on the small sofa in the corner of her office. “I guess…” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m here, not really.” He looked at her. “You were honest with me when Elizabeth was in the hospital. You told me it’d be a miracle if she survived after the cardiac arrest.”

“We were lucky,” Monica admitted. “I’ve had other patients under similar circumstances that didn’t make it.” She pursed her lips. “I hate telling you how much of this is a crap shoot, Jason. The OB/GYN she’s seeing Friday will hopefully have some more concrete information for you.”

“If she were anyone else,” Jason said slowly, as he stared down at his hands. “Would you recommend going through with the pregnancy?”

Monica bit her lip. “It’s not my position to say one way or the other, Jason. Have you and Elizabeth talked about this?”

“Yeah.” He sat back and scrubbed his face with his hands. “She brought up not having the baby, but—I _know_ this is something she wants. It’s something I want. Just…not like this. Not when we have to think about what it might cost us.”

“Jason—”

He shook his head. “But I know I’ve come down too hard on making safe choices, and she doesn’t want to live like that. Maybe everything will be fine.”

“And it might very well be, Jason. She’ll have the best medical care money can offer,” Monica reminded him. “Access to the best doctors in the state, if not the country. Any medicine she needs. Any scans. Weekly visits if that’s what Dr. Lee recommends. I know you’re worried. Jason—” She touched his forearm, waiting until he turned to look at her. “I know what it was like to wait that night in the hospital. To watch her struggle for breath and her heart stop in front of you. I’ve been through it with your father and his heart problems. With Edward and his.”

“All the money in the world doesn’t make her body stronger,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t change the fact that she was drugged for months, had a miscarriage, an overdose, an embolism, cardiac arrest—Monica, is she really strong enough to do this?”

“I can tell you that her scans are clear for blood clots,” Monica said. “That while I worry about long term organ problems, we haven’t detected any damage to either her heart or her lungs. That doesn’t mean they’re in perfect condition, but Elizabeth recovered from all of that as well as anyone could after two months.”

Jason didn’t say anything, so Monica continued. “I understand being terrified for the person you love. Being afraid to hope for the best because you’re not used to the universe being on your side.”

“Elizabeth—” Jason took a deep breath. “She said we got a miracle this summer. When she didn’t die. And she’s afraid—_I__’m_ afraid that she’s right. How many miracles do we get? How many times does she get to risk her life without—”

“There’s another way of looking at what happened this summer,” Monica told him. “I have to believe that maybe Elizabeth was spared—if she fought back because this is what was supposed to happen. Maybe this baby—this child neither of you planned but both of you want—maybe _this_ is the miracle you were waiting for.”

“I don’t know if I can believe that. If I can…” Jason shook his head, falling silent. “But that’s the kind of thing that Elizabeth could believe. I don’t really have dreams, not like she does. She’s always been able to look at things and see the good in them.”

“I will be here for you any time you want to worry without making Elizabeth upset,” Monica offered. “And you know that your grandmother and sister will be here for you both. I hope for the best after your doctor’s appointment, Jason, I really do. I want to see you happy—I want you to both be happy.”

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

“I feel like I haven’t done anything except worry and think about this,” Elizabeth said with a sigh as Georgie served her and Bobbie their lunches.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Bobbie offered as Georgie went back inside. “We can talk about something else. Anything else.”

“Like what?” Elizabeth muttered, stabbing at her salad. “The mayoral race? Where poor Brooke Lynn gets dragged through the mud every five minutes by Floyd and his team?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not good company today.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be any kind of company for me,” Bobbie told her. “We can just sit here and eat quietly. We can talk about television. Bad music.”

Elizabeth set her fork down and looked at Bobbie. “The thing is that I think I know what I want to do. I’m just…I’m scared that this doctor will tell me something that will make me change my mind or that I’ll look at Jason and how worried he is—” She bit her lip.

Bobbie moved to the seat directly next to Elizabeth so she could take the younger woman’s hand in hers. “You have to do what’s right for you. And that’s such a useless thing to say because how do you even know what’s right for you?”

“I just…I’m scared of the risks, but part of me is…I’m really _happy_. Losing the baby in May—even with everything I know about how the drugs Ric gave me might have hurt her, even knowing it was Ric’s child—” Her voice was tight as she tried to force the words out. “I wanted that baby more than I ever thought I would. And now, to have another chance at being a mother, to create a family with Jason—this is _everything_ I ever wanted in my life. And I can’t stand the idea that Ric might take this away from me, too.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I hate that he’s still in my life. Even when he’s not actually here in Port Charles, even when I’m not thinking about the trial, the reason I don’t get to be excited about being a mother is because he stole it from me. I can’t let him keep running my life.”

“That’s true,” Bobbie said slowly, “but—”

“I just want Jason to be happy, too. I don’t want him to spend the next eight months with that look on his face—I want him to be excited—” Elizabeth shook her head and shoved her plate away, her appetite disappearing. “Everything about our life together so far has been haunted by Ric. We couldn’t even have sex without an oxygen mask nearby—’” She broke off, flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry that this is happening,” Bobbie told her. “And you’re not wrong to worry that it will be difficult for Jason to see this as a blessing. But you’re seeing the doctor on Friday. And she might give you guys something more concrete to hold on to. You’re both getting yourselves so worried and caught up in something that might not end up being that serious.”

“I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t seem to work.” She sighed. “And if we do go through with it, of course, I’m worried about what happens with the trial. I mean, Ric’s kept away from us, but—” She met Bobbie’s eyes. “He went insane after I lost the baby. I mean, he was already pretty far gone before that. I know that now. But he kidnapped Carly to get to her baby. He wanted to replace our child with hers. And now…”

“And now you’re pregnant.” Bobbie sat back in her chair. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Can I even keep this from him? It doesn’t feel like it’s relevant, but maybe…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “It’s just one more thing Ric is controlling, and I hate it. I should…if I go through with it and keep the baby, I should warn Scott. But then is he honor bound to turn it over?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Bobbie admitted. “But let’s take this one step at a time and get you through this appointment. We can cross all those bridges after that. And you know you’re not going through this alone. You or Jason. I’m here for you. Emily. Monica. I’m sure Lila. And Edward—” Bobbie pursed her lips. “Well, we’ll see what works out. Oh!” Bobbie snapped her fingers. “And I completely forgot — Nikolas is coming home on Friday.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth managed a smile. “I knew he was planning it soon, but that was more quickly than I expected. What about the rest of the family? Is Laura coming home, too?”

“Laura will be transferred to Shadybrooke in another month,” Bobbie said, “but Nikolas seems to think she’ll be on outpatient treatment soon. She might even be home by Thanksgiving.”

“Well, that’s good news. I know how hard it’s been for your family since she got sick.” Elizabeth grimaced as her phone rang. “One second.” She opened the phone and her scowl deepened. “Sarah. Hey—really? Okay. Okay. Sure. Yeah, I—I’ll figure something out.”

After the brief conversation, Elizabeth tossed her phone in her purse. “First time I’ve heard from her since Gram died.”

“What did she want?” Bobbie asked as Elizabeth started to search for her wallet. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. She’s interviewing for a position at Mercy tomorrow and her hotel reservation got lost.” She managed a humorless smile. “She wanted to know if she could stay with me.”

“With you?” Bobbie repeated. “That’s…”

“_Not_ something I need right now. The idea of my sister in the same city as me, even if it’s across town—” Elizabeth tossed some bills down. “Maybe Jason and I can avoid her, and she can stay at my place while we go to the penthouse or something.”

“Do you have to go take care of it now?”

“Yeah, I have to give her name to the guards in the front lobby, so they’ll let her in. She’s at the airport now.” Elizabeth got to her feet. “I’m…I don’t know how much she knows about what’s going on, so if you see her—”

“I won’t say a word.” Bobbie hugged her. “Good luck. And call me tomorrow.”

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Mac stared down at the report Taggert had prepared, including the lab reports and the more detailed statements from the victims who had agreed to be re-interviewed.

It was like a shot to the gut to realize just how badly he had handled the sexual assault cases during his tenure—how incredibly he had failed the women he had sworn to protect.

“Mac, I need to understand,” Taggert said, drawing his attention up to look at his lieutenant seated across from him. “I need to understand what happened with Elizabeth Webber’s case. Because she’s going to ask, and I can’t—” He shook his head. “I _won__’t_ lie to her. I won’t pretend that she wasn’t lied to. We told her that the dress came back negative.”

Mac exhaled slowly. “You have to understand that I honestly thought Tom Baker was the guy. I believed her—I _still_ believe—that he said something to her, that he did something that convinced Elizabeth that he had confessed. I believed her.”

“I did, too,” Taggert admitted. “I went back and looked at the statement — based on her own words, she said it first. And he ran with it. He repeated a phrase her rapist had used—and Elizabeth accused him of being the guy. I think he ran with it to control the situation. To get her locked up so he could escape.” He rubbed his head. “Knowing now that he’s been excluded, that makes sense. But then—I wanted to believe it was him, too. Because I wanted that nightmare to be over.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t explain what you did with the rape kit—”

“Floyd was concerned that Baker’s case would drag on,” Mac cut in with a weary sigh. “Edward Quartermaine was putting all kinds of pressure on him because of Emily’s involvement, and when I told him that we wouldn’t be able to fast-track the trial because of the rape investigation—because it would take six weeks, maybe more to get those results back—he hit the roof.”

“He wasn’t even up for election,” Taggert said, his lips curling in disgust. “Why the hell—”

“Because he was, and remains, terrified of pissing off the Quartermaines. He wants me to feed the department to the wolves and blame my officers for this rape case—he’s going to want Vinnie’s head on a stick so he can parade it around.” Mac rubbed his eyes. “But I thought Baker was the guy. And I thought—well, maybe I can spare her the trial. I can make it so this is easier for Elizabeth. She doesn’t have to go up and confront him. He was gonna go down for twenty-five years on the kidnapping charges. So, I told you I’d take care of the kit but that we were going to mark it for cold storage.”

Taggert shook his head. “That doesn’t explain—”

“At the trial, after Elizabeth accused Baker in open court—Edward Quartermaine made another call. He hadn’t known the rape case was part of this. Had no idea what had happened to Elizabeth. He wanted Floyd to do something to help her. To make it better.”

“So why—”

“Because of the mistrial. We were lucky to get that quick date in December. The next opening wasn’t until March — and a rape investigation might not have been done by then. Floyd did _not_ want this case dragging through the spring and into the election season. He wanted me to make it go away. And by then, Dara Jensen was worried that she might not be able to convict him at a second trial. She wanted to make a deal.”

“So why falsify the lab report?” Taggert demanded. “Why bury her damn case, Mac?”

“Because Floyd needed the Quartermaines off his back.” Mac shook his head. “Making it look like that case could never get off the ground. Baker goes to jail for five to fifteen years and we give Edward Quartermaine the news that there simply wasn’t enough evidence to go after him on the rape. The report was supposed to back that up if anyone looked. And…”

“You made sure no one looked.” Taggert glared at him. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you? You hid her file, you went out of your way—”

“I thought Baker was the guy. I was trying to protect her and Emily. And my job, yeah.” Mac’s stomach twisted. “Because I had a family, too. And Floyd threatened to fire me. I put it away. I had to. And then Sonny Corinthos was back, and the mob wars started again—I got distracted. The garage fire. The Cassadine crap.”

“You threw her away, Mac. You and Floyd. And you made _me_ part of it.” Taggert shook his head. “Two more women were raped after Elizabeth. Then four more this year. All of that we could have stopped—”

“Could we have?” Mac demanded. “Doesn’t change the fact that we didn’t have the money to change the policy on testing rape kits. Didn’t change the fact that senior officers flee this town like their asses are on fire. That second part is on me—I’ll admit it. The PCPD isn’t such a great place to work. But I did the best I could—”

“Yeah, well, your best isn’t good enough.” Taggert’s mouth twisted as he got to his feet. “Six women were traumatized because you wanted to keep your job.” He raised his brows. “But you won’t have to worry about that for too long, will you, Mac? Latest polls show that Ned Ashton is going to clean Floyd’s clock in two months.”

“And until then, you still work for me,” Mac reminded him, getting to his feet. “I made mistakes. I’m not perfect. But don’t pretend that you’re any better than me. We’ve all been selfish. We’ve all ignored the oath we swore—so how about you stop standing in judgment of me and go do your damn job.”

**Elizabeth** **’s Condo: Living Room**

Sarah had left Port Charles the year before to take up a residency program in Los Angeles, and she and Elizabeth had barely stayed in touch. A few phone calls around the time their grandmother had died—mostly Sarah making her excuses for not being able to make it and sending her bank account information so that Elizabeth could transfer her inheritance.

She met her sister in the lobby of the building, finding Sarah eying the men behind the desk with an air of suspicion. “Sarah, uh, hey.”

Awkwardly, they embraced, then Elizabeth led her to the elevators. “What brings you back to Port Charles?” she asked as they stepped into the car.

“Oh. Well, after Gram died, I felt bad about not being around more,” Sarah offered, with a shrug. “I don’t want to work at General Hospital—too much pressure to live up to Gramps and Dad, I think. But Mercy offered a fellowship.” She glanced at her sister. “Last time I was here, you were living in that rat trap on the docks. This is an upgrade.”

“Yeah, Nikolas helped me find it,” Elizabeth said, as the doors slid open and they started down the hall. “I only have the one bedroom, so you can stay here tonight. Jason and I are going to his place.”

“Jason?” Sarah repeated. She waited as Elizabeth unlocked her door. “You guys got back together?” She set her overnight bag on the sofa and started to walk around the room, checking inside the bathroom before heading for the kitchen. Elizabeth rolled her eyes as her sister inspected her apartment like it was a goddamn hotel room.

Sarah would never change, and in a lot of ways, there was a comfort in knowing that.

“Something like that,” Elizabeth said as she took her own overnight bag out of her closet and started to toss some things into it, from both her drawers and closet as well as Jason’s drawer.

“I knew you got married and you were separated—is that someone else? Steven didn’t know the details.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “But that last part didn’t sound like you.” She sat on the side of the bed, then frowned. She tugged on a piece of the plastic tubing that connected the mask to the oxygen mask. “What is this?”

Elizabeth sighed, wishing she’d had advance notice of her sister’s visit so she could have packed in advance. She took both pieces from her sister and tucked into the bag. “I got sick this summer—”

“Elizabeth—” Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, and just looked at her with those sad eyes Elizabeth remembered all too well. “I know we’re not close, but why didn’t you—”

“I couldn’t.” Elizabeth sighed. “I had a pulmonary embolism and went into cardiac arrest. Sometimes I have trouble breathing, but it’s mostly—it’s a long story, Sarah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Cardiac—” Sarah’s face was pale as she pressed her fingers to her lips. “Jesus, Liz. Are you serious?”

“Yes, but I really am okay now.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “Look, yes, I got pregnant and married the father. He turned out to be…not a great guy on a lot of levels, okay? I lost the baby, and then later, I found out he was drugging me with birth control pills to keep me from getting pregnant again. That’s how I got the embolism. It was rough for a while, but I got better, and I’m okay now. I also filed for divorce. Jason and I got back together because after all of that, the reasons we were apart seemed incredibly stupid.”

Sarah blinked at her, then shook her head. “That can’t be all of it, Elizabeth. Something like that—why didn’t Nikolas or Lucky call me? Why didn’t Emily?”

“Because they didn’t. It’s—” Elizabeth met her sister’s eyes. “It’s really not something I want to go into right now, but if you end up coming back to Port Charles — if you take the job at Mercy, then we can get into it. Okay? You’re only in town for a night. Do you want to get dinner? Jason and I were going to go to Eli’s.”

“Okay. If Jason wouldn’t mind me tagging along.” Sarah folded her arms, looked away. “I should have come home for Gram. I should have been here for you—for her. I just—it’s hard to be here and not at the house. To know she and Gramps are both gone—it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I should have been a better sister to you.”

“Well, as I learned this summer,” Elizabeth said after a long moment, “it’s never too late. C’mon. Jason and I are meeting at the restaurant.”

“Thank you for letting me stay on such short notice,” Sarah told her as the sisters headed for the doorway. “Really. I knew I could count on you.” She smiled, a bit of bitterness underneath it. “And I can’t say that about pretty much anything else.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Sarah—”

“I’m only in town for one night,” Sarah reminded her. “We’ll get into it if I move back home. Let’s go. I’ve missed Eli’s ribs and I want…I want to actually get to know Jason.”


	21. Chapter Forty

_Now that we're here,_  
_It's so far away_  
_All the struggle we thought was in vain_  
_All in the mistakes,_  
_One life contained_  
_They all finally start to go away_  
_Now that we're here it's so far away_  
_And I feel like I can face the day, and I can forgive_  
_And I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today_  
_-_ So Far Away, Staind

* * *

_Friday, September 12, 2003_

**General Hospital: Kelly Lee** **’s Office**

Sarah’s surprise visit was able to keep Elizabeth from obsessing about her doctor’s appointment and while dinner with her sister and Jason was a bit awkward, it was drama free. They dropped Sarah back at the condo while they went to the penthouse for the night.

The next morning, they headed to the hospital where Kelly Lee, a doctor Monica had recommended from Buffalo, had been granted temporary privileges and office space to treat Elizabeth, at least for today. She knew she was receiving special treatment from her connection to the Quartermaines, but it was hard to argue with it when it benefited her and the possibility of keeping her child.

From the moment Elizabeth and Jason entered Kelly’s office at General Hospital, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Kelly was enthusiastic, warm, and most importantly — direct.

“I can understand your cardiologist’s concern,” Kelly said as she looked through Elizabeth’s chart. “You’ve had a difficult few months health wise. That being said…” She lifted her eyes to the nervous couple seated in front of her. “Your recent scans are clear for blood clots, your bloodwork is clean, and none of the tests you’ve had so far show any damage to your heart and lungs.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly and looked at Jason. He took her hand in his, squeezing it. “So, it’s not crazy to think I could carry this baby to term and be okay?”

“It’s not crazy, no,” Kelly told her. “But we also can’t ignore that Dr. Quartermaine is entirely correct. You _are_ at an elevated risk for another embolism, and pregnancy does place stress on the body that you probably don’t really need right now. That being said, there are a lot of things we can do to monitor you and stay on top of any problems.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, bit her lip. “But I can—I can keep the baby.”

“I’m sure you’ve both been through a lot since you found out a few days ago,” Kelly said when Elizabeth opened her eyes, looked at her. “Looking at your records, you had some scary close calls, Miss Webber.” She flicked her eyes to Jason. “And I’m sure that was difficult to watch. But you’re on blood thinners. Usually, we take you off those about ninety days after the embolism, but we’ll keep you on them for the duration of the pregnancy.”

She scribbled something else. “You’ll see me monthly—Dr. Quartermaine—the Chief of Staff—offered me a staff position so I won’t just be a visiting doctor. At home, however, I want you to monitor your pulse daily and your blood pressure once a week. Any deviation from the norm, you’re to come straight to the hospital so we can look into it.”

Elizabeth stared at her for a long moment. “But—but that’s it? That’s all we can do—”

“Well, normally, I’d remind you to take it easy. To avoid stress, but I understand you’re due to testify in a trial,” Kelly told her. “We’ll keep a close eye on you during that period, but honestly, Elizabeth, considering how fragile your situation was two months ago, you’ve gotten yourself back into decent enough shape that we can get you through this.”

She tipped her head. “But no unnecessary activity. Take it easy. Pregnancy can cause extreme fatigue, and you’re still rebuilding your stamina. If you feel tired, sit down. If you feel dizzy, lay down, call me. Try to avoid being alone for long stretches of time or make sure there’s always someone there to take your call.”

Kelly waited a long moment. “Are you a high-risk pregnancy? Yes. Do I think you need to worry? Not all the time. From your case file, it looks like the symptoms of your blood clots were masked by the drugs your ex-husband was giving you. But you’re aware of the symptoms now.” She leaned forward. “Follow my directions to the letter, and I honestly think you have an excellent chance of a smooth pregnancy.”

She tapped her pencil against the desk blotter. “Where we might have issues is delivery and directly after. We can discuss it as we get closer to your due date, but I might want to check you in ahead of time to monitor you closely in case a clot develops.”

They scheduled a follow-up appointment along with an ultrasound, and before Elizabeth knew it, the two of them were in the hallway of the hospital on their way to the elevator.

“I feel…” Elizabeth managed a laugh. She led Jason to a small alcove near the elevators and sat down on the sofa. “I feel so silly for all the drama and the crying, and the—” She shook her head. “She made it sound so easy.”

“Yeah, I have to admit, she’s not asking you to do anything much differently than you did after you left the hospital.” Jason took Elizabeth’s hand in his and held it palm side up, tracing the veins of her wrist. “And to be honest—”

“You already take my pulse at least once a day, if not more,” Elizabeth finished. “Yeah, I noticed.” She exhaled slowly. “I mean—we can—we can think about what’s next now. Because—I mean obviously we’re going forward with this.” She met his eyes. “Now that it’s—it’s safe. We can be happy. If you…”

“I _am_ happy,” Jason told, softening his voice. “I was…afraid to be happy. I didn’t want to get used to the idea until we knew—”

“Until we knew,” she repeated when he stopped talking. She turned her hand back over and laced her fingers in his. “We’re having a baby.” Her smile spread until her cheeks nearly ached from it. “Maybe your mother—I mean, Monica—maybe she was right. Maybe this part is the miracle. Why we survived last summer.”

“You don’t have—you can call her my mother,” Jason told Elizabeth. “So, you said we can think about what’s next. We haven’t talked about it, but if your medical records are open to Ric—”

“He’ll know about the baby,” Elizabeth finished. She pressed her lips together. “Yeah, I talked to Bobbie about it, and I’d be insane not to worry about it. The miscarriage tipped Ric over the edge, so if he finds out I’m pregnant again—after what happened with that stuff in the papers…” She shook her head, her smile fading slightly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“That’s why I want—I want to move to the penthouse,” Jason told her. “You can do whatever you want to it, but as secure as the condo is—”

“The Towers are a fortress,” Elizabeth finished with a nod. “Yeah. We can do that.” At his surprised look, she shrugged. “I needed a place to get myself together. And the condo was great for that. And if it were just me, maybe we could discuss it further, but I remember how secure the penthouse was last year. All of that stuff you guys installed after that bomb got up to Sonny’s a few years ago and everything.”

She got to her feet and they started for the elevators. After she pressed the down button, Elizabeth said, “I also want to let Scott Baldwin know.” When Jason grimaced slightly, she continued, “I don’t want him to be blindsided if Ric finds out from my records. After he offered to make a deal when it would be better publicity for him to go to trial, I feel like I owe it to him to be fair.”

“Okay.” Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever you need, that’s what we’ll do.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Carly checked her watch and scowled, tapping her foot nervously against the floor as she stared at a magazine. She just wanted Jason to call and tell her about the doctor’s appointment—she was worried about both of them if the doctor gave them bad news.

She didn’t know if she actually liked Elizabeth Webber, but after everything they’d been through together, the least Carly owed Jason and Elizabeth was civility and her support.

She eyed her husband, pouring yet another bourbon at the minibar. Since Sonny was determined to be a jackass—

Her phone rang and Carly almost fumbled it in her haste to open it, but—” Oh, hey, Mama. No, he didn’t call me yet. You either?”

Sonny turned to look at her, a questioning look in his eyes. She silently shook her head as Bobbie continued to talk. “Oh, man. I mean…you warned me, I guess. Yeah. Okay. We’ll deal with it. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

Carly closed her phone, then pressed it to her forehead, silently counting to five before looking at her husband. “She was calling because she got a subpoena from Ric.”

Sonny grimaced but sighed. “That makes sense. She was there the day you were found and helped look—” He stared at her. “What?”

“She was also there when you had your breakdown, Sonny. And she didn’t tell Scott outright, but he knew enough that the judge decided it was Brady material—” When Sonny scowled, she hurried to add, “He would have been in trouble if he didn’t turn over whatever he knew about you—”

“Fucking Baldwin,” Sonny muttered. He threw back his bourbon. “So, your mother is just going to spill her guts? She could get in trouble for giving me that injection, you know? Why doesn’t she plead the Fifth?”

“No one who knows about that is going to tell anyone.” Carly pulled herself to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. “What’s the big problem, Sonny? Even if Ric makes you testify about your breakdown, it doesn’t change anything—”

“If you would just let me take care of that little fucker, we wouldn’t have to worry about this!” Sonny roared. “And now my mental health is going to be on everyone’s lips! I’m gonna look even weaker than I already do!”

Carly rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, Sonny, is _that_ what you’re worried about? Typical. You had a breakdown because I was gone. That just makes you sympathetic—”

“You think Anthony Zacchara is going to find me sympathetic?” Sonny demanded as he stalked towards her. “What about Hector Ruiz or Sammy Tagliatti? You think any one of them is going to think it’s no big deal that I was hallucinating my dead wife?”

She exhaled slowly. “We talked about this. You’re not touching Ric. Not before the trial—”

“You know if I get rid of that asshole DA, that would take care of this too,” Sonny muttered. “Get rid of Baldwin, and the case gets postponed. No trial. No deal.”

Carly’s blood felt frozen beneath her skin as she stared at her husband. “Are you—are you threatening the district—you’re not serious, are you? What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

“You seem to forget who I am, Carly.” Sonny pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes bulging with fury. “I am fucking Sonny Corinthos and no one is going to make me look weak. The only reason Ric is still alive is—” He shook his head and turned away from her.

Pressure built behind her eyes as she struggled to form the next words. “Because Jason refused to do anything. And you don’t have the connections to do it without him.” She fisted her hands at her side. “What, did Jason tell everyone who works under you to leave Ric alone? Did you already try to give the order, Sonny? After everything we talked about—did you try to have Ric killed?”

Sonny didn’t answer her and just poured himself another drink.

“If you touch Scott Baldwin, if you go after Ric, Sonny, after everything we’ve talked about—everything I’ve been through—” Tears slid down her cheek. “That’s it. I’m gone. We’re done.”

He turned back to look at her. “Well, maybe that would be for the best,” he said simply.

Her heart pounding, she nodded. “Yeah, maybe it is. I’ll have Leticia pack Michael up. We’ll go to my mother’s.”

And when Sonny didn’t say anything else, Carly went upstairs and started to pack.

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

Taggert had planned to visit Chicago to interview Theresa Lopez, the victim of the April 1999 attack, but he’d gotten lucky — she had flown in for her grandmother’s birthday and agreed to talk to him. Even better, he’d finally managed to convince all three victims from earlier that year to talk to him as well. Provided they met out in the open, away from the PCPD, and not in their own homes.

He spoke to Theresa first. She was no more than five foot three, maybe a hundred and ten pounds with brown eyes and pale skin. In the photos taken in the hospital four years earlier, her had been a deep chestnut brown, worn long with a tendency to curl.

Her attacker, the report read, had wrapped that hair around his first. Smelled it. Commented on it.

It was now short, in what his ex-girlfriend Hannah Scott had called a pixie cut, he remembered. And ash blonde.

He couldn’t blame her.

“Did you find him?” she asked flatly after she took a seat across the table from him, a large flowered purse held in her lap, her arms wrapped around it as if she could use it as a weapon any moment.

“No,” Taggert admitted. “But we have a lead—”

“Great. A lead,” she repeated, those eyes flashing. “You brought this back because maybe—”

“We’ve linked your case to others,” Taggert cut in as gently as possible. “Your kit was processed and came back with a match to a few other open cases. There’s no hit in the national database, but if his profile is ever put in there, we’ll be able to match it. But we’re actively pursuing him, Ms. Lopez.”

Her shoulders deflated and she looked away. “They didn’t test it back then. No suspect. It made no damn sense to me, you know? How the hell do you get a suspect without—” She shook her head. “And the first cop was an ass. He blamed me.”

As that first cop had been that lazy son of a bitch Vinnie Esposito, this didn’t surprise him in the slightest. “You don’t need this from me, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, well thousands of dollars in therapy later,” she muttered. She huffed, looked at him. “What do you need from me?”

Taggert hesitated. “I need to take your statement. The one we have is a bit…” Incomplete. Half-assed. “There are questions you weren’t asked. Some ground I wanted to cover.”

“Because there’s this link, you said.” Theresa nodded.

She’d gone to the movies with a friend, she told him. A girl friend, so they’d met there and parted ways. She didn’t have a car then and the theater wasn’t far from her house. If she cut across Port Charles Park, she could be home in ten minutes.

“But I tripped over a stupid rock,” Theresa sighed. “Or a crack in the pavement. I don’t remember now. My sneaker was untied, so I stopped at the fountain.”

“Which one?”

“The one on the north side of the park, closer to the movie theater. It wasn’t really cold. One of the first nights it wasn’t freezing, so I only had a windbreaker on. I sat on the bench, before I could tie my shoe…” Theresa looked away. “He grabbed me. I kicked, tried to scream. I never did see that sneaker again. Flew right off my foot.”

It was sitting in an evidence bag, found soaking wet in the fountain when the crime scene investigators had swept the scene, but Taggert didn’t tell her that.

“He threw me to the ground,” Theresa said, her voice as flat and lifeless. “And he hit me. Hard in the face. And he grabbed my head, slammed it against the ground. I—I saw stars for a minute and by the time I could breathe—he’d flipped me on my stomach and handcuffed me.”

Taggert’s pencil slipped and he looked up. “Handcuffed.”

“Easier to hold me down when I can’t use my hands.” Theresa pressed her lips together. “I guess. I don’t know. He put me on my back. God, my fucking hands hurt. I was terrified, but all I could think was how tight the cuffs were. I didn’t—I didn’t tell that other cop that. I didn’t remember it.”

“It’s okay—”

“I didn’t remember most of it,” she admitted. “Not until later. When my parents made me go to therapy after I tried to kill myself the first time.” She picked up the glass of water, her hands shaking a little. “But now it’s all I can remember. How much my hands hurt, how my shoulders felt like the muscles were being ripped into two. I guess it distracted me, because the next thing I knew, my jeans were off, and—”

Her voice broke. She took a deep breath. A huge gulp of water. Taggert said nothing, just sat there. Let her do it in her own way.

“He jammed himself inside me, and God it, hurt so fucking much. I wasn’t a virgin, I’d had one boyfriend steady since I was a freshman. Was having sex regularly. I tell you that because I know how it’s supposed to feel—”

“Theresa—”

Her eyes fastened on his. “It’s the only way I got through it. I cried to my boyfriend in the hospital. I’d felt like I cheated on him, and God, he just—he never said a word against me. I pushed him away. Refused to see him, and he stuck. We’re still together.” She flattened her hand on the table. And now he saw a tiny diamond glinting. “Maybe we wouldn’t have made it if this happened, but he stuck with me through this and I guess once you go through the worst thing and get through the other side, all the other drama seems like bullshit.”

She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how long it took. It felt like forever. And it felt like a few seconds. He had his hand in my hair the whole time. Talked about how nice it smelled, but it wasn’t the best. It wasn’t _right_,” she said slowly. “That’s what he said. He finished, hit me a few more times—and the last time, he hit me so hard, I blacked out. That’s why it got reported. Because I was unconscious, and someone found me. I don’t know if I would have called anyone, and after I met Officer Fuckface, I didn’t want to keep going. Another guy came later. Garcia or something. He was nicer, but I couldn’t—after the first one, I just didn’t want to talk to the PCPD anymore.”

Taggert hesitated. “I’m sorry—”

“He told me that maybe I shouldn’t walk at night,” Theresa said flatly. “Like I’m not a fucking taxpayer. Like it’s my fault some asshole needed to prove something to himself. But I didn’t get angry then. I blamed myself. And after the first six months, I took a bunch of pills and tried to make it stop. But my mom found me and committed me to the psych ward. Told me I had to do something. My boyfriend cried. My dad cried.”

She looked at her hands. “I’d never seen either of them do that and I guess I realized what it would do to them. Even if my pain stopped, theirs would just start. And I didn’t want that. So, I went to therapy. And I got through it.

“Did any of that help?” Theresa asked after a long moment.

“Yeah.” Taggert set his pen down. “I’m sorry that the first cop you talked to was an asshole. I can’t make excuses for him. And I wish I could promise you I’ll get him. That’s not a guarantee I can make.”

“I guess not.”

“But this case is all I’m working on,” he continued. “And I’m not going to give up until there’s nothing left to do.”

“You said there were others,” Theresa said. “How many?”

“Six,” he admitted. “One before you. Another after you. And then nothing until four this year.”

“Four this year.” She exhaled slowly. “He’s still…he’s still out there.”

“Yeah. But…” He looked at her hair. “Keep the blonde hair. Keep it short.”

“All long-haired brunettes.” Theresa nodded. “I was thinking about growing it out for the wedding next year, but I think I’ll go get my roots touched up.”

She left then, and a half hour later, Dana Watson arrived. She was only twenty-one and according to the photos, in February, she’d been a brunette with long, curly hair.

It was now a chin-length bob, worn stick straight and dyed a firetruck red. And her story was similar to Theresa Lopez. Identical, even, Taggert thought as he considered it later. On her way home from the movies. Had stopped by the angel fountain to check the time on her cell phone because she’d forgotten to put on her watch that morning.

Grabbed. Handcuffed. Hit. Her attacker had also commented on her hair. Had also smelled it. Said it wasn’t right. Had hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious.

Her story, Taggert thought later at his desk at the station, was all but identical to all the other statements. After Theresa and Dana, he’d also met with Renee and Wendy. He’d talked to Veronica Logan on the phone earlier that morning, the last victim from the first round of attacks.

All of them had described stopping at a fountain in the park, being grabbed. Handcuffed, then hit. The attacker had smelled their hair—

And then hit them hard enough to cause unconsciousness when it didn’t smell right.

While Elizabeth’s statement hadn’t been very detailed—Taggert knew she hadn’t remembered a lot of the attack during that first interview—he knew her case was different. She’d walked away from her attack and didn’t report being hit in the face at all.

He wondered, with therapy and the passage of time, if she’d remember any comments about her hair or if she’d been handcuffed. Had that detail come back to her like it had for Theresa?

Six young women with long brown hair had been attacked after her and had been told their hair wasn’t right. They’d been beaten more. Knocked unconscious for someone else to find. It was possible Elizabeth had just been his first victim, someone who whet the appetite for more brutality and sadism, but there was also the distinct possibility that somehow…

Elizabeth had been the trigger, the victim he kept searching out, the attack he kept trying to recreate.

Taggert exhaled slowly and pushed the files away. He’d put it off long enough, but it was time to bring Elizabeth into the investigation.

**Port Charles Airport: Arrivals Hall**

Kelsey exhaled slowly as she studied the notes Lucky had passed her when they’d left work that night, heading to the airport. She wasn’t nervous.

Not even a little bit.

She’d already met his aunt and his sister. They liked her. Lucky got along with her mother and hadn’t even scowled at Scott Baldwin the night she’d dragged him to dinner with her boss.

Two months into their relationship, everything was going great. They clicked intellectually, he was sexy as hell, great in bed, funny—

Outside of a dormant blood feud with some supervillain and a bout of brainwashing, Lucky Spencer was basically perfect.

So, what the hell was her problem?

Lucky reached over and put a hand on her knee. Kelsey scowled down at it—she hadn’t even realized it was bouncing up and down and she restlessly tapped her foot. “I’m not nervous.”

“Right.”

“I met your aunt.”

“I know.”

“And your sister is crazy. I think she asked me a thousand questions and if she weren’t only eighteen, I’d be worried she was running a background check. But she likes me.”

“So does my aunt.”

Kelsey narrowed her eyes at his easy tone. “I’m not nervous. He’s just your brother.” She huffed. “A Russian prince who has more money than God, a villainous grandmother, and a castle in the middle of the lake. Completely normal.”

“He is normal.” Lucky reached for her hand, covered it with his. “He used to have a giant stick up his ass, but we yanked it out years ago.”

She laughed, rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, that’s a weird thing for brothers to do, but whatever.” She glanced back up at the arrivals board. The private flight from London had landed, which meant the prince was somewhere in Customs. “I guess you read over Taggert’s interview notes from today.”

“Yeah.” Lucky took them back from her. “He’s going to talk to Elizabeth tomorrow. I guess he wants to give her one more night before—”

“All of these women—” Kelsey shook her head. “And the way they talked about the responding officer—Vinnie’s not just lazy, Lucky. He’s a misogynistic asshole who has no business being anywhere near rape victims. And apparently, he was in Special Victims while he was in Buffalo. How many women did he chase away? Did he scare? Blame?”

“Yeah. I know. I read the notes from Theresa’s interview. She attempted suicide six months later. With pills. Just like Brooke.” Lucky was quiet for a long moment. “We put them all through this again, but what did we even learn? Nothing.”

“Hey. Don’t count the statements out yet. We’ll get Elizabeth to come in, do her own follow-up, and then we’ll look at all the cases together. So much about them is the same, you know? But where they’re different—” She touched his arm. “That’s how we’re going to get him. He’s not a mastermind, Lucky. He’s just a sick, sadistic asshole. We know him now.”

“Yeah. Well, we’ll see.” Lucky gestured as a man with dark hair walked through the door of the arrival hall, a few men behind him pushing a baggage cart. “Come meet my brother.”

Kelsey slid her files into her bag and put away dark thoughts of serial rapists. She rose to extend a hand to Nikolas Cassadine, who smiled warmly at her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“You, as well.” Nikolas released her hand, then rested it on his brother’s shoulder with a teasing grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucky rolled his eyes but embraced his brother. “You still up for dinner or do you want to head home to get some sleep?”

“I slept on the plane, and I’m looking forward to getting to know Kelsey. You’ve managed to win over our sister, Miss Joyce,” Nikolas said as he took Kelsey’s arm in his. “Do you know hard it is to impress Lesly Lu Spencer?”

“Hopefully harder than it is to impress a Russian prince,” Kelsey offered as they started out of airport. “But I guess we’ll find out.”

**PCPD: Conference Room**

Scott leaned back in the chair and grimaced. “Any idea why Elizabeth wanted to meet with the both of us?” he asked Taggert as the lieutenant took his seat. “You think she knows about her case?”

“I don’t know,” Taggert said, tossing a folder on the table. “Spencer swears up and down that he didn’t tell her—that he’s not in any hurry to bring that up for her either. Maybe it’s about the Lansing case.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’s changed her mind about not wanting to go to trial.”

Scott’s grimace deepened. “I could live with that, but—”

The door opened then, and another officer stuck his head in the door. “Miss Webber is here. You ready for her?”

“Yeah, let her in.” Both Scott and Taggert stood as Elizabeth entered in, one of her hands clutching the strap of her purse at the shoulder. “Elizabeth, what’s on your mind?” Scott asked as he gestured for her to take a seat.

“Oh. Well…” Elizabeth sat and waited for them both to retake their seats. “I wanted you both to be the first—well, the first outside of my friends and family to know—because I don’t want either of you to be surprised if it ends up in my medical reports for the trial.” She looked at Scott. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a long beat of silence as Scott digested that news, then looked at Taggert who looked very uncomfortable. “Ah—”

“My doctors—Monica and the OB I’m seeing—they’re going to do what they can to keep it from being obvious. Monica ran some tests at my checkup which gave the positive result, but while she’s consulting with my OB, her name never appears in the file.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I don’t think this counts as something you’d have to tell Ric, right?”

“Ah…” Scott pressed his lips together, still a little thrown. “Ah, no. I don’t think so. I mean, I have to tell him anything that might be evidence of his innocence.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe if it discredits a witness or contradicts them, but I’ve got a lot of leeway with discretion.” He looked at Taggert. “Now, Ric would claim it’s evidence of an affair, am I right?”

“Yeah, probably.” Taggert cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly in his seat. “But I filed a report on the assault charges at the time. It was, and remains, my official opinion that the _Sun was_ fed a false story in order to shake up the case. That’s the official PCPD statement as well, and Capelli was reprimanded for it.”

He looked at Elizabeth. “Are…are you okay? I mean, it’s not too soon?”

“My OB is optimistic that as long as I try to avoid stress and monitor my vitals I should be okay, but I was worried that Ric might get this information as part of my medical records, and I wanted you to be prepared for it, Mr. Baldwin.”

“Well, I appreciate that, Elizabeth. Like I said, there are a couple of things I’m being forced to hand over to Lansing—because he’s specifically requested it. If, as you say, the breadcrumbs are in your file and he doesn’t notice it, then, well…” Scott shrugged. “Not my problem, right?”

Elizabeth visibly relaxed, her shoulder slumping. “Thank you. I—I’ll be relocating to the Towers, though, starting this weekend. With Ric out on bail, even with the protective order, we’re both worried what he might do if he does figure out I’m pregnant.”

“After what he did when he just thought you were having an affair, I think that’s probably a smart move.”

Elizabeth thanked them again, then left. Scott turned to Taggert and just stared at him, the cop looking down almost blindly at the table.

“Avoid stress,” Scott repeated. “She’s supposed to _avoid stress_ at the same time I’m prepping her to testify against a man who tried to kill her and—” He scowled, thinking back to the therapy notes he’d read. He knew more about Elizabeth Webber’s psyche than he ever needed to know anyone’s. “You’re investigating her rape which was bungled by the cops—”

“It’s more than that,” Taggert said with a sigh. “I interviewed the last of the previous victims today and started to really put together a picture of this guy. Scott, I don’t think Elizabeth is just the first known victim—she might be the first victim. The trigger victim. I think this guy knows her.”

“Fuck me.” Scott scrubbed his hands over his face. “Tell me everything.”


	22. Chapter Forty-One

_Today was gonna be the day_  
_But they'll never throw it back to you_  
_By now you should've somehow_  
_Realized what you're not to do_  
_I don't believe that anybody_  
_Feels the way I do, about you now_  
\- Wonderwall, Oasis

* * *

_Saturday, September 13, 2003_

**Warehouse: Jason** **’s Office**

Jason held Carly’s elbow as she slowly lowered herself to the dingy sofa in his office. “I would have come to you—”

“I’m eight months pregnant, not dying,” Carly muttered. “And Dr. Meadows thinks it’s a good idea if I keep active for as long as I can stand it.” She sighed. “And since Courtney left for Manhattan last month, Sonny spends a lot less time here in the mornings so I knew it would be clear.”

“Yeah, one of the guards told me you’d taken a suitcase and Michael to the Brownstone,” Jason told her, taking a seat next her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize things were so bad with Sonny.” He shook his head. “I should have. All I do with him is argue these days and it’s always the same thing.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we both thought he’d eventually come around.” Carly bit her lip. “Has Sonny tried to go after Ric? Did he—he did tell you—I mean, I know I’m not supposed to ask about business—”

“Once,” Jason asked after a long time. “I told him no. He gave the order to Johnny who also refused.”

Carly closed her eyes. “And neither of you got in trouble for that?”

“I sent Johnny to the island to deal with security down there for a while until Sonny cools off, but no. At the end of the day, even if Sonny wanted to, there aren’t a lot of the guys who are willing to—” Jason shook his head. “Why does it matter?”

“Well, for one, all this time I thought he was angry at me because he couldn’t go after Ric. It turns out he was already ignoring what I needed from him, and he was angry with everyone else.” Carly exhaled slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. “He’s not well, Jason. A year ago, I thought he trusted me. He brought me into the plan to fake his death and he gave me a role to play. He listened to me. He took suggestions to get through that. But—”

“Yeah. He’s been having a rough time of it since you went missing, but I don’t know. Maybe it started when he found out about Ric and his mother.” Jason rubbed his chest. “He always blamed himself for his mother’s death, you know. And then you get kidnapped because of him. Elizabeth nearly dies because she’s trying to help him. He always takes on the weight of the world.”

“I know that, Jason. I _do_. And I’ve let him get away with it. You and I—we’ve made him a priority in a way that I just…don’t want to do anymore, you know?” She absently rubbed her belly. “Michael deserves better. This new baby deserves better from me. And Jason, you deserve better, too.” She looked at him. “What did the doctor say yesterday?”

Jason sighed and got up to pace across the room. “That Elizabeth should be able to carry the baby to term without a lot of problems as long as we monitor her health and avoid stress. The doctor seemed to think most of the risk would come after delivery.”

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Carly asked. “I mean, she and I are never going to be friends, but I know what she went through. She did it for you mostly, but I’m still free because of her.” She bit her lip. “Jason, we have to stop letting what Sonny needs be the most important thing in the world to us. You need to put Elizabeth first. I need to put my kids first.”

“Yeah, I know. I know that.”

“But doing it is a lot harder than it looks.” She hesitated. “Listen, there’s something else you should know. Sonny made some threats against Scott Baldwin.”

Jason blinked, shook his head, and looked at her. “No. That’s not—he wouldn’t—”

“Exactly. He wouldn’t. _If_ he were thinking clearly. He wants Ric to go away, and right now, you and I are standing in his way. He can’t do anything to us, and I don’t believe he ever would. So, he’s blaming the next best thing.”

“Going after a DA—that’s suicide. There’s not a man alive in this organization—” He shook his head again. “_No one_ is going to agree to do that. Not over something like this.”

“And the fact that he couldn’t even get anyone to go after Ric gives me a lot of relief, because that means Scott will be safe. I know you guys gave Courtney grief when she called the police, and I get it, but Scott means a lot to my mother and he’s—”

“He’s never once treated you and Elizabeth differently because of me and Sonny,” Jason finished. “Yeah, I agree. I don’t think Baldwin’s in any danger, but it makes me nervous Sonny isn’t getting better.”

“He’s the father of my children, Jason, but I’m just…I can’t do this anymore.” She started to get to her feet, so Jason took her elbow and helped her.

“We’ll figure this out, Carly. But right now, you worry about the baby. Let me worry about Sonny.”

“That’s what _I’m_ worried about,” Carly muttered on her way out the door, but Jason didn’t answer her. 

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

“I am _so_ glad to see you,” Elizabeth said as she embraced Nikolas for a tight hug. “I feel like we didn’t have enough time to catch up in July.”

“Well, you were busy trying not to die,” he said dryly as he drew back and kissed her cheek. “But I’m happy to see you out of the hospital and…” He looked around the room. “I think I’m not entirely surprised to find you _here_.”

“I’m moving my things in here officially this weekend,” Elizabeth told him as they sat down on the sofa. “But I’ve been staying here since Wednesday—Sarah was here overnight, and I let her stay in the condo.”

“Sarah?” Nikolas repeated. “Why—” He shook his head. “Why was she in Port Charles? She left last year without so much as a word to the rest of us—”

“Yeah, well, she finished her residency in California and Mercy is interviewing her for a fellowship. It was fine. She stayed at my place, and Jason and I took her to Eli’s for dinner. It was weird but fine.” Elizabeth scratched her temple. “How’s your mother? You were hoping to bring her home soon. Is that still happening?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’ll be at Shadybrooke for few weeks, and then they’re going to do some outpatient therapy.” Nikolas’s smile was full of relief. “She should be home for good by Christmas as long as there aren’t any setbacks.”

“I’m so glad,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to squeeze his hands. “I know Lucky could use her in his life. He told you about the investigation and what happened to Brooke Lynn Ashton?”

“Yeah. It’s—” Nikolas shook his head. “It’s brought back some rough memories for him. Have you talked to him?”

“A little but not in a few weeks,” Elizabeth admitted. “But he seems happier than he used to be. Have you met Kelsey?”

“I did. She came with him to pick me up. I liked her. And you’re right, he seems happy. But I’m worried about this case.” Nikolas paused. “He said he talked to you about his memory issues.”

“A few weeks ago, yeah. He said he was remembering it now,” Elizabeth replied. “I thought about checking in with him again, but…” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. We have this shared trauma of that night, and I’m dealing with a lot after what happened with Ric—what’s still happening because of him…”

“Are…are you okay?” Nikolas asked, concerned.

“I’ve been seeing Gail Baldwin and digging into a lot of crap that happened, so it’s been painful. Jason and I have fought maybe a hundred times about him worrying too much about me taking risks with my health, so that’s been fun.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “And then, to top it off, ELQ apparently can’t make decent condoms, so it turns out I’m pregnant.”

To his credit, Nikolas merely nodded. “Okay. So that’s a lot.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “The doctor says there’s a good chance I’ll be okay, and the baby will be okay, but instead of being excited, Ric gets to play a starring role because of the drugs he fed me for months.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. That’s not why you came over—”

“Hey. We agreed this summer we were going to do better by one another, right?” Nikolas squeezed her hand again. “I’m glad you felt like you could tell me that. Have you talked to Jason?”

“To a certain extent, yeah, he knows all of that but…I’m tired of everything being about Ric. Between what happened to Brooke and the memories it brought up for me because of Ric, the trial, and now the baby—I just want my life to stop being about Ric Lansing.”

She got to her feet and paced the length of the room. “I wanted the chance to testify against him. To see his face so he could know that I’m not weak. I wanted him to know who put him there.” She stared out the window over the harbor. “But mostly, I just want it all to be over.”

“It will be.” Nikolas got to his feet and joined her. “At the end of all it, you and Carly will put that sociopath away for the rest of his life, you’ll have your baby, and in a few years, this won’t even make the top ten list of things you think about.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Elizabeth murmured. She smiled at him. “But it gives me something to look forward to, you know? The idea that if I just concentrate on that moment—my baby’s fifth birthday or something—I want to be able to dream again, Nikolas.” Tears slid down her cheek. “But I’m not sure I remember how anymore.”

“Well, then dream about this. Next week, let’s get together with Lucky and Emily and have dinner. The Four Musketeers.”

Elizabeth laughed through her tears. “You know, the last time we all had dinner together, Lucky was kidnapped. I guess it can’t get much worse than that. Okay. It’s a deal. Dinner with the Musketeers.”

**Brownstone: Living Room**

“Hey, Lucky,” Bobbie said as she embraced her nephew. “It’s been a few weeks since I saw you around.”

“Yeah, well…” Lucky grimaced and followed his aunt to the kitchen where she started a pot of coffee. “I’ve been busy with the case—”

“And Kelsey,” his aunt said with a smile. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how little you come by Kelly’s and your room.”

“Things are…” Lucky shook his head, with a bit of a surprised laugh. “Things are good. I’m not really sure how it happened, but she’s amazing. And I feel—” He looked at Bobbie. “I feel like I’m finally the person I’m supposed to be. With her. With Dante and Cruz. And sometimes, at my job.”

“I’m so glad.” Bobbie squeezed his shoulder. “You were so lost. Even when we thought you were found, you still didn’t seem comfortable in your own skin.”

“Nikolas likes her.” He shrugged. “Dad might not since she’s an ADA and he’s not that great about my job choice, but I guess we’ll find out.”

“I can’t believe your mother will finally be home next month,” Bobbie said. She placed the coffee carafe underneath her faucet and turned on the water. “Lulu is excited to be moving back to the house—she said Lesley is coming home next week, then Luke will come back with Laura.” She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “It’s been a hard year for the Spencers, but we’re coming out of it.”

“Yeah.” Lucky sat on the stool by the counter and unpinned his badge from his uniform shirt. “What do you think Mom is gonna say about me being a cop?”

“I think it might surprise her,” Bobbie admitted as she switched on the pot to brew, then turned to fully face him. “But do I think she’ll react like Luke? No. She’d be proud of you for going after what you want.” She tipped her head to the side. “You’ve been at this for four months on duty. Is this _still_ something you want?”

“I don’t know,” Lucky admitted. “I got into it because of Scott—because of how he and everyone went after Mom and Dad last year for what happened to Rick Webber. He made it sound like I couldn’t do it, you know? I went into the academy just to prove I could. Then I met Dante and Cruz—” He looked at Bobbie. “But ever since I actually started _doing_ the work…”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t help that literally the day you started was Carly’s kidnapping. Then this rape investigation with poor Brooke. It’s probably been hard on all three of you. Especially you and Dante—”

“Yeah…” Lucky sighed. “The thing is, Aunt Bobbie, this rape case—it’s bringing back a lot of stuff. You know where the papers are saying it happened, right?”

“The park,” Bobbie said with a nod as she took two mugs out of a cabinet. “That’s where Brooke was.”

“The papers don’t have the whole story yet, but you’re going to be hearing it soon enough because Taggert is supposed to tell her today.” Lucky waited until Bobbie stopped to meet his eyes. “Brooke and the other three women—it’s not the first time this guy has hit Port Charles.”

Bobbie stared at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes. “Oh, God. Tell me when you say _her_—tell me—”

“Taggert had this hunch that something about this case seemed familiar, but I think he already knew. I think he was already told he wasn’t allowed to reopen her case because he told me, Dante, and Cruz to go down to the archives and bring up all the cold cases that were similar. He knew what we were supposed to find.”

The drip of the coffee was the only thing that punctuated the silence as Bobbie said nothing. Lucky continued. “We found two other cases. Two other women, in April 1999 and January 2000. But Aunt Bobbie, Elizabeth’s case wasn’t in cold storage.”

Bobbie frowned. “I thought Taggert put it on the inactive list. That’s what he told Elizabeth back then. Even though Baker had confessed—”

“That’s where Taggert put it. Mac Scorpio told him they would run the rape kit, but until then it had to come off the active case list. He told Taggert the kit came back negative.”

Bobbie clutched at the edge of the counter as if to maintain her balance. “Lucky—”

“But we found the file in closed storage. It was marked as solved. The lab report was in the file, just like it was in the DA’s file—but it wasn’t created until December. And the lab said it didn’t come from them. And her dress never got tested.”

“I—I can’t—” Bobbie shook her head. “How—”

“We couldn’t understand it either. Taggert talked to Mac. He said it was some kind of clerical error—that the lab got it wrong, but I don’t think so. I think Floyd pressured Mac to close any case that would screw up Baker’s trial. We all thought Baker was the guy. Maybe Mac didn’t even think he was doing anything wrong.”

Bobbie rounded the counter to sit at her table. “Why would Floyd care—” She twisted in the chair to look at Lucky. “Because Baker was on trial for what happened to _Emily_. You think Edward was behind this.”

“I think it’s entirely possible the Quartermaines were the source of that pressure, yes,” Lucky said. He turned on the stool. “We ran the kit finally—and all the other kits. They’re all linked. Baker was excluded. And Elizabeth’s rapist went on to brutally beat and rape six other women, including Brooke Lynn.”

Bobbie pressed a fist to her abdomen. “I feel sick to my stomach. They…they swept her case under the rug and—Oh, God. You said Taggert is telling her today?”

“Yeah. She’s the only previous victim we haven’t interviewed. He held off until he had no other choice. He was almost hoping he wouldn’t have to tell her at all — Elizabeth’s case is five years old — older than that now, and the statute of limitations ran out in February.”

Bobbie frowned. “Then—”

“Elizabeth was sixteen,” Lucky continued, “and in the state of New York, the clock on limitations doesn’t start until the victim turns eighteen.”

Bobbie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “And now, after everything she’s been through, Taggert is going to reopen all of this.”

“Aunt Bobbie—”

“I don’t think Edward had anything to do with the cover-up,” Bobbie cut him. “I buy that he leaned on Floyd to protect Emily, to go after Baker. Edward’s always been ruthless, but he’s not cruel. He respected Steve and Audrey too much to do that to their granddaughter. He wouldn’t have done it.”

“Maybe, but at the end of the day, instead of running the rape kit and officially clearing Baker, Mac let this case die. And six other women went with it.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

“What do you think is going to happen to Sonny and Carly?” Elizabeth asked as she handed Jason his takeout container from Kelly’s. She settled herself on the sofa next to him and grimaced at the roasted vegetables and plain chicken breast she’d ordered. The least she could do for her baby was eat better, but damn if didn’t hurt to watch Jason sink his teeth into a burger.

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “Carly seems tired of dealing with it, and I can’t blame her. Not after everything she’s been through. I guess…we’ll just have to see how it plays out.” He eyed her as she listlessly stabbed a fork into a piece of zucchini. “Did Nikolas stop by today?”

“Yeah, and then I went to see Gail when he left for our usual session.” She sighed. “Gail said that one of her support groups is looking for someone to lead it.” Her stomach twisted. “A rape survivor’s group. She thought I might be interested.”

He just tipped his head to the side. “Are you?”

She said nothing for a long moment as she ate a few bites of the vegetables. As she chewed, she tried to think of a way to express exactly what she was thinking. “I don’t know. I think about talking to Brooke and what I’ve been through this summer, the idea of talking about my rape, listening to other people talk about theirs…I almost can’t stand it. But…”

“But?” he pressed when she trailed off.

“I went to a few group meetings while I was seeing Gail the first time around. And…I don’t know. It sucked knowing I wasn’t alone. That men were out there doing this to women all the time.” Elizabeth looked away, towards the fireplace. “But…I wasn’t _alone_. And that helped sometimes when I was sitting in my room and couldn’t sleep.” She jerked a shoulder. “That summer, I used to get really upset that I would never know. Lucky and I were trying to find the guy, but our own investigation never went anywhere.”

She set her takeout container on the coffee table. “But then I’d remember some of the stories I heard in group, and I’d think…maybe it’d be worse if I _did_ know the guy, you know? Someone’s boyfriend raped her when she told him no. Another had been…her father. Someone else’s uncle.”

She looked at Jason whose expression hadn’t changed, even as one of his hands had clenched into a fist. “Gail thinks I’d be good at it, and it might help me let go of my guilt about not doing enough for Brooke. I’ve been complaining about not having any passion, any direction…And I don’t think it would be all that stressful. I mean, it would be painful, but—”

“Not stressful the way we need to worry about,” Jason offered when she furrowed her brow, trying to articulate the difference.

“Yeah. If she thinks it’s a good idea, she’s probably right. But I don’t know. I’m trying to get away from all of that. I was just telling Nikolas how much I want it all to stop, to go away. If I did this, I’d have to live with all the time.”

He paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. “But you already do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t know. I guess it’s something to think about.”

The phone on Jason’s desk rang, so he got up to answer it. “Yeah?” He grimaced, looked at Elizabeth. “Hold on a second.” He put the receiver down. “Taggert is here to see you.”

“Really?” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Send him up, I guess.”

Jason gave the directive, then hung up the phone. “What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know. It’s almost eight.” Elizabeth got to her feet to clear away their dinner, but Jason stopped her and did it instead. “I went to see him and Scott yesterday—you don’t think Ric already knows, do you?” she called after him as he went into the kitchen.

“I don’t know.” Jason reappeared in the doorway. “I guess we’ll find out.”

When she opened the door to Taggert a few minutes later, she hoped neither the fear nor the panic swirling in her stomach showed on her face. “Lieutenant, this is a surprise.”

“Hey, Elizabeth,” Taggert said as she stepped back to let him. He had a slight grimace on his face when he saw Jason standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry to come by so late, but I didn’t want to wait another day.”

She gestured for him to take a seat. He did so, sitting in the armchair next to the sofa where Elizabeth tugged Jason to sit next to her. “What’s up? Is it Ric?”

“No, no. Everything is still where we left it there. Um, you know I was promoted this summer and took over Major Crimes. That’s why I was on Brooke’s case.”

“Do you…have a lead?” Elizabeth asked. She looked at Jason who looked unhappy. She frowned before looking back at Taggert. “Did you find him?”

“No. We—the papers already reported that she was the fourth young woman in the park. We…There’s no easy way to say this, Elizabeth. But these four women—they weren’t the first.”

The chill began in her fingertips and she idly started to rub her hands together to keep them from freezing solid. Silly to wonder if the ice was real or just in her head. “They weren’t.”

“There were three other earlier attacks,” Taggert continued, looking down at the carpet. His voice started to sound far away. She felt Jason take one of her hands, hold it tightly. “January 2000. April 1999, and—”

“February 1998,” she said softly. “How can you know that?”

“We ran the…we ran the forensics, and there was…a DNA match linked all seven cases.”

“Seven—” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no, then there’s a mistake. Because my kit _was_ run. Back in 1998. After Baker confessed. Because he _confessed_—”

Thank God she was sitting down because her head started to swim. Jason turned and wrapped his arm around her, bringing her closer to him. He was so warm. She wanted to crawl inside of him and hide.

Because she knew what was coming next and she couldn’t stop it.

“Elizabeth, I can’t—the kit wasn’t—there were some issues. But—we now know the profile excludes Baker. And links you to the later cases.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “Jason.”

“I’m right here—”

“The letter. The letter he sent—is that what he said? Is that what you’ve wanted to tell me?”

“Letter?” Taggert asked, his brows lifted. “What letter?”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t get the words out over the pounding of her heart. So, Jason took a deep breath and told him.

“In July, when we were packing her things at the house…she got a letter from Tom Baker. She didn’t open it.” His features were pained as she met his eyes. “I did. I read it. He’s up for parole in a while and he—”

“Wanted to clear his conscience?” Taggert asked sardonically.

“Make sure that no one was waiting for him when he left prison,” Jason said flatly. “He saw the same tabloids that Ric Lansing saw. Thought he had reason to worry.”

Taggert left it at that. “I no longer work in Organized Crime,” Taggert said. “I am supremely uninterested in anything that has to do with arresting someone who is not the asshole who—you can trust me. At least on this.”

“What did the letter say? Do you still have it?”

“It’s upstairs,” Jason said, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to leave Elizabeth alone for a minute to retrieve it. “She didn’t want to read it, and I never told her what was in it.” He looked at her, regretful. “You didn’t want to know. Every time I tried—”

She touched his face, understanding. After her reaction from just knowing he’d been to see Baker— “Taggert, can we trust you?” she asked softly. “I mean, _really_.”

“After we got the letter, I went to see him. To warn him to stay away from Elizabeth and Emily if he got out on parole,” Jason said, not looking away from Elizabeth. “But he said something that…he said something about what he wrote. So, I went home and read the letter. He said it wasn’t him. Then, after Brooke and the other stories in the papers…”

Taggert narrowed his eyes, lunged to his feet. “Is there, ah, a reason you didn’t think to tell the cops—”

“Tell the same department that almost got her killed?” Jason demanded, also rising and meeting Taggert’s glare, fury in his eyes. “Yeah. There were reasons.”

“Don’t—” Elizabeth stood up between them. “Don’t. Jason didn’t tell you because we didn’t trust you. And after everything that came out about Brooke’s case, I’m not sure he was wrong. Because I know for a fact I was told five years ago that my rape kit came back negative, Taggert. _How_ were you able to exclude Baker this time?”

“I can’t get into that, Elizabeth—”

“When Jason told me he’d been to see Baker, I fell apart. I had a panic attack. I continued to have panic attacks and breathing problems until three weeks ago. And then we found out we were pregnant. He didn’t think I could handle knowing. And I don’t blame you.” She turned to look at him. “I don’t blame you.” Elizabeth returned to Taggert. “But this guy—he’s raped six other women. And he’s responsible for Brooke’s death. So, I just…I want to do what I can to help.”

Taggert exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. For all the ways we’ve failed you. But I’m trying to do right now. What happened to you, to Brooke, to everyone who should have been safe makes me sick.” He looked at Jason, who was still breathing hard with anger. “You said you believed him. Why?”

Elizabeth gave him a pleading look, so Jason sighed and sat back down, pulling her with him. Taggert also retook his seat. “He said that he knew he was getting out, and he wanted to make sure I didn’t have a reason to come after him,” Jason related as though there wasn’t a world of meaning in that statement. “Once we found out about the other attacks—it just seemed it fit. He said that she had said something, and he’d run with it.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought might have happened. I looked at the transcript of your original statement and it looks like—”

“He told me not to say a word, and—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess maybe. I accused him, and I must have looked so freaked out. Thinking back, that makes sense.”

“I’d like you to come in,” Taggert told her. “I’d like you give us an updated statement for our files. We never conducted a second full interview.”

“Do you have any leads?”

He hesitated. “We have some things to look at, but at the moment, we don’t have a suspect. The DNA isn’t in the database. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be. Other jurisdictions are still getting online. He was inactive for nearly all of 2000 through 2002. He might have been somewhere else.”

“I guess…” Elizabeth sighed. “I guess yeah. Where did you keep the letter?” she asked Jason.

“I can get it—”

“I need a minute,” she told him quietly. “Please.”

“It’s in my top dresser drawer.” He watched as she slowly climbed the stairs before turning back to Taggert. “You’re not going to hassle me about going to see Baker?”

“I already know it was off the books because you’re not listed in his visitor log. So, I could…” Taggert looked at the stairs. “Knowing what she’s been through, Morgan, I waited until the last possible minute to bring her into this. I wanted to protect her. So, I can put myself in your place. Woman I cared about whose life was shattered gets a letter like that? I’m gonna get her some answers anyway I can.”

He tilted his head. “And now that I’m thinking back to it, it seems to me that after Brooke was attacked, I got a tip from an anonymous source that these weren’t the first attacks. That I should look at similar cases.”

Jason didn’t look at him, stared straight ahead at the television where the news was running, muted. “If I had come to you, she would have known. And she didn’t want to know.”

“Fair enough.”

Elizabeth came down the stairs and held out the letter, still folded. “Here. When do you want me to come in?”

“Tomorrow. Whenever is good for you.” Taggert took it and carefully slid it into a plastic bag he kept in the pocket of his suit jacket for times like these. “Thanks.”

Jason walked him to the door as Elizabeth sank back onto the sofa. When he closed the door, he looked back at Elizabeth. He didn’t know what to do for her. How to even…begin to understand how to make this okay for her.

“I think maybe part of me has wondered since the moment Emily called me and told me it was in the park,” Elizabeth admitted. “When you put that letter in front of me, and I had to face it, I still pushed it under the rug. I’ve avoided it. Concentrated on Brooke and what happened to Ric, and then the baby—I didn’t think I was strong enough to face the idea it wasn’t Baker.”

Her cheeks were wet when she met his eyes again. “But Taggert said it…and I realized I already knew. I had already accepted it. Somewhere inside. I just didn’t…Did you hear what he said? It wasn’t just me. I wasn’t alone.”

The echo of her words from earlier that evening slammed into him because they were no longer comforting but filled with horror. With terror.

He was rooted to this spot in front of the door, afraid to come near her. To touch her. What if he did, and it happened again? If she went back to that place—

“I wasn’t alone,” Elizabeth repeated. “And he just…” She pressed a fist to her mouth, closed her eyes. “He kept on doing it. He kept _hurting_ women. April, January, February, May, July—and then, oh, God, Brooke. He’s the reason she’s gone. He’s still out there, Jason. Not five years ago. But now. Tonight. And these are just the women we know about. What if…”

He moved just one step towards her, then she flew into his arms, burrowing her head into his chest. He exhaled slowly, wrapping his arms around her and held her.

“What do you want to do?” he asked after a moment.

“I have to do it. I have to help. Six other women. Brooke. If I don’t, and I knew something that could have helped, even a little…and then someone else…I couldn’t live with myself, Jason.”

“Okay.”

She drew back to look at him. “I know you and Taggert aren’t…on most days, you don’t like each other, but I was hoping…you would come with me.”

“Taggert and I agree on one thing — you.” And he knew Taggert had transferred to Major Crimes over the handling of Elizabeth and Carly’s case. He’d been the only cop on their side while Carly was gone, responsible for the rookies who had sat outside her house every day. And now he’d done what he could to keep this case from touching Elizabeth. “If you want me there, then that’s where I’ll be.”

“Thank you.” She was quiet for a moment. “I’m going to tell Gail I’ll do it. The support group, anyway. I think—I think I need to deal with this once and for all and put it away for good.”


	23. Chapter Forty-Two

_You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time_  
_You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together_  
_You'll be fine_  
_Tell me what the hell do you know_  
_What do you know_  
_Tell me how the hell could you know_  
_How could you know_  
\- Til It Happens To You, Lady Gaga

_Sunday, September 14, 2003_

**PCPD: Conference Room**

Kelsey lifted her brows in surprise as Taggert set down the phone. “Did I hear you right? Jason Morgan is on his way up with Elizabeth Webber?”

“I’m not sure he’s ever come here voluntarily, much less without representation,” Taggert admitted. They both got to their feet when the door opened, and Elizabeth and Jason were led in.

Once they were settled, Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t the same room—the old PCPD had burned down the year previous. They weren’t even in an interrogation room. It wouldn’t be like before.

“Let me tell you a few things before we get started,” Taggert told her. “When you gave your statement the first time, it was still early in your investigation. To be honest, none of us working here had much more than rudimentary training for dealing with these kinds of crimes.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Is that to explain what happened with my rape kit?” she asked. “The mistakes made?”

“I meant…” Taggert paused. “There are things we could have done differently. For example, you came in a few times to add to your statement, but we never took you through it all the way again. All the workshops say witnesses remember more details in these kinds of crimes after some time—”

“Because we’re still processing it,” Elizabeth nodded. When he frowned at her, she shrugged. “I’ve had therapy, Taggert. It’s kind of like your workshops. I stopped going after that fire at the garage, but Gail and I worked out a lot of things I never thought I’d remember.”

“That’s why I need you to go through it from the top,” he said. I’m not asking to torture you or be cruel. But we’ve taken all the—” he hesitated.

“You’re trying so hard not to say victims.” And the consideration of that…it relaxed her slightly. “I _was_ a victim. I’m not now. But we all were, and I know that’s also a legal term. You can use it.”

“Right.” Taggert looked to Jason briefly before turning back to her. “We’ve taken all the victims through it again. We might do it one more time. So, this might not be the only time we talk.” He nodded to Kelsey who pressed record on a tape recorder sitting in the middle of the table.

There were a few legal things—and she could feel Jason tensing next her as she signed some paperwork. It went against everything he believed in to sign papers without a lawyer for the cops, but she trusted Taggert. On this anyway.

“Okay, let’s start at the top,” he told her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and under the table, reached for Jason’s hand just to hold it for a moment. He squeezed back.

“I went to the movies that night,” she said. “I’d lied to my grandmother, my sister, my friends. I’d told them I was going to the dance with a football player who didn’t know I existed.” Her mouth twisted. “It seems so silly now…that lie. As soon as I’d said it, I knew I was digging a hole. He’d be at the dance, and Lucky and Sarah would see him. They’d _know_ I lied. And God, the thought of going home to face…

“So, when the movies were over, I still had an hour left before I could go home and not be interrogated by my grandmother. I didn’t think she’d wait up for me. So, I walked home through the park. God it was so cold, and I had these stupid strappy heels on. I can still feel the snow soaking my stockings as I went through the park.”

“You stopped at the fountain on the southern edge of the park. Was that where you entered the park?” Taggert asked.

She frowned at the question but was grateful at the detail it had brought back to her. “Oh. No. That’s…the side of the park where it borders Central Avenue. A lot of buses run past there, and I was going to take one home. I came in from the opposite side. I guess, from the north. It was across the street from the movie theater. I had crossed most of the park by then.”

Had been just yards away from the park entrance.

“I stopped because the walk had only taken ten minutes and it seemed so important to kill more time. I didn’t want to go to a cafe or diner—what if someone from school was there? And I didn’t have a story yet to cover where I’d been. How to explain my lies to Lucky or Sarah.” Elizabeth looked down at her fingernails, at the chipped red nail polish she never remembered to remove or reapply.

“So, I stopped at the fountain. There was a bench, and I had my leftover popcorn. I thought…I’ll sit here for about ten minutes and maybe I could get away with going home early. I could lie to my grandmother about it. Or maybe…God maybe I would have just told her the truth. I think I was close to just saying to hell with it, and maybe Gram would have—”

At the thought of her beloved grandmother, her voice broke and she dipped her head.

“Do you want to take a break?” Taggert’s voice broke through. She felt Jason turning towards her, his arm along the back of her chair.

“No, no. Just…my grandmother.” She accepted the tissue Kelsey offered her and took another deep breath. “I don’t know how long I sat there. It felt like hours, but it could have been seconds.”

She couldn’t look at Taggert, couldn’t turn to Jason, or even look at Kelsey who was a relative stranger. So, she looked between the two of them, at the window across the room.

“I was yanked back before I felt the hand on my mouth—I couldn’t scream, but I held on to the bench. I tried so hard, but it was stone and—” She held up her hand, looking at it. “I broke nails. One of them was completely gone, and it was hell hiding that. I had to lie about closing my hand in the door.

“But it wasn’t enough,” she murmured. “He was so _strong_…” Elizabeth had to take a moment. To just…breathe. “He dragged me into the bushes—there weren’t leaves and the branches scratched at my legs. I kept struggling. I tried to fight. I don’t know…what happened to my coat. It was gone. I never did…find it.

“He threw me on the ground. Hard. It was so cold…. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the ground.” She closed her eyes again, trying to put herself back in that moment. She’d gone through it with Gail in therapy but there were things even Gail didn’t know.

“He let me go…just briefly—I could feel his weight lift off me for a second, and I tried to get myself together to scream, but I couldn’t. Everything hurt, and it was just this ugly horrible blur. I wanted to curl up and just…go away. But he grabbed my hands and he held them over my head.” She rubbed at her wrists. “I tried to kick, tried to get away, but then he shoved me on my stomach—” She looked at Taggert. “He handcuffed me. My hands were behind my back—and I—I don’t know how I forgot that. I didn’t remember that until…months later, but I don’t know how I could have forgotten. The metal was freezing. And then he shoved me on my back again, my shoulders—it hurt so much to move for days. To lift my arms.

“I tried to kick him again and I think I must have hurt him because he slapped me. And then…” Her voice trembled, and she did look at Jason this time. His eyes were wet as they met his, and something about that broke her. He never let Taggert see any emotion, and this—because he was hurting for her, he wasn’t protecting himself.

“He smelled my hair. It was a little shorter then…” Her stomach rolled as bile rose in her throat. “He put his face down next to my ear, but it was just to say something. He was—in my hair. Smelling it, rubbing it against his cheek.”

Without a word, Kelsey slid a bottle of water across the table and Elizabeth took it, taking a long gulp as if that could make it go away.

“Do you need a break?” Taggert asked again, but this time his voice sounded rusty.

“No, we’re…it’s almost done.” She rubbed her chest. “That’s when he said not a word in my ear. His breath smelled like soap. Clean. I didn’t remember the stuff about the hair until after I stopped going to therapy. I remembered it when Lucky came home. I couldn’t look at my hair then, I almost dyed it, but then people would have asked, so I just—I chopped it as short as I could.”

She took a deep breath. “That’s not relevant, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t but she just shook her head. Had to get this out. “He pulled down the top of my dress—that’s when he ripped one of the straps. And he touched my…my breasts. Squeezed them so hard I had bruises there, too. I think I was a walking bruise for weeks. And then—I heard a rip, and it must have been my—because he was just…”

The stabbing pain came back to her then, but Elizabeth was ready for it. She shoved it aside. “He was inside of me. It felt like hours, but it really wasn’t. I don’t know. I just…it was happening. And then it was over, and I was crying. And then he…I don’t know. He tried to pull my dress up, and he was sweating. Panting, I thought. But I think…” She frowned. “It sounded like crying, but that’s not possible, right? I mean, that doesn’t make sense. I heard Lucky’s voice. Calling my name.”

She dipped her head. “I never told Lucky that it was…it was that close. That I don’t know what would have happened if Lucky hadn’t come along. Maybe he would have killed me. But he just uncuffed me and ran. I laid there a few minutes, trying to just…and then Lucky was closer. He was right there, and I thought…I had to get to him, because it would be over if I could just…so I crawled.”

She fell silent and looked at Taggert. “Is that what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Um…” He scratched his cheek, looked at Kelsey. “Any questions?”

“Would you be willing to let us talk to Gail Baldwin?” Kelsey asked. “If you remembered this in pieces and in therapy, she’d have notes. And it would corroborate the timing of it. That you remembered before you knew it was…”

“Because there are things that happened to me that happened to the others.”

“Yeah,” Kelsey admitted. “I can’t…be more specific at this time, but it will be helpful—”

“I’ll sign a release.” Elizabeth sighed exhaled slowly, because somehow…knowing that the entire story had been told—that it was on tape—that she wasn’t the only one with these memories now—some of the darkness swirling inside had dissipated. “You said it wasn’t Baker. That he’d been excluded.”

“Yeah.” Taggert furrowed his brow. “The DNA didn’t match. Why?”

“I just…” Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip. “It just seemed so…he seemed to _know_ what I was talking about. He didn’t even…skip a beat. And…I went to see him in prison a few months later. After he’d been sentenced. And he said something about my red dress. But maybe…” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe he just took a lucky guess.”

Taggert frowned but nodded. “Maybe. That’s all we needed from you right now. I know with everything else you’re dealing with, Liz, that it couldn’t have been easy to do this. Thank you.”

“Just promise me you won’t give up this time.”

Elizabeth and Jason left without giving Taggert a chance to respond. She’d had enough.

**Gate House: Living Room**

Ned grimaced when he found Scott Baldwin standing on his doorstep, but he stepped back to allow the district attorney to enter. “What do you want?”

“You know, what happened to your daughter—” Scott shook his head. “It makes me sick, Ned. It makes me sick that I couldn’t do more. I didn’t know how bad the case was screwed up—but—” He hesitated. “I should have.”

“You said all of this in July. If that’s all you have—” Ned started to open the door, but Scott remained planted in his spot by the sofa. “What is it?”

“Floyd can’t win in November. I _can__’t_ serve another term under him. I thought about resigning but God only knows who he’d put in my place.” Scott scowled. “So, I’m gonna do what someone should have done a long time ago. I’m gonna give you the ammunition you need to put him in the ground, but you can’t tell anyone I’ve leaked information in an ongoing investigation.”

Ned growled at him. “I don’t want to know anything that’s going to compromise that case—”

“It won’t. It’ll just show this goddamn city how corrupt Floyd is, how corrupt he makes the people working for him, and how easy it is for him to sacrifice everyone else for his power.” Scott took a deep breath. “Floyd threatened to fire Mac if he didn’t close Elizabeth Webber’s rape case in the fall of 1998. Edward was making threats about funding another candidate in the ‘99 election so Floyd wanted the Baker case to go away.”

Ned just stared at him, shaking his head. “Why does—” He stopped as the realization began to spread throughout his body. “Are you—what do you mean he _closed_ her case?”

“I mean that Mac put her case in the closed storage without running the rape kit that would have cleared Tom Baker of her rape. And because everyone assumed his confession was true, the bastard went on to keep raping women. Including…”

“Including my daughter.”

The fury all but consumed him, made him dizzy. He put a hand against the wall to brace himself. “I don’t understand. How—”

“Taggert figured it out when he pulled Elizabeth’s case after he linked the other cases. He found a falsified lab report stating the kit was negative and was livid when he realized her case had been moved from cold storage. He had put it there himself. He reopened her case and also found two other victims. This bastard kept raping because Mac and Floyd made her case go away.”

And now his daughter was dead.

“Because Grandfather—” Ned squeezed his eyes shut, his brain _screaming_. Because Edward had gone through the roof when Emily had been held hostage by Tom Baker. Had been livid when the trial began, and Elizabeth Webber had made her outcry. He’d been so angry—

And Ned knew—Christ, he _knew _Floyd had been under pressure from the Quartermaines.

“I called him,” Ned said faintly. “I’m the one—_I_ made the call. Grandfather told me to do it, but I made the contact. I told Floyd that we wanted to make sure that Baker’s case was handled by the book. We wanted him to go away. Whatever he had to do.”

Oh, God. He’d never meant…

“Ned—”

“I didn’t—we didn’t _know_ about Elizabeth’s attack. Emily didn’t tell us. And it wasn’t in the papers. Not until the trial. And then…then Grandfather was so upset. He wanted to make sure that Steve’s granddaughter got justice. I called Mac personally, and he told me—”

His chest was on fire as he forced the words out. “He told me that there just wasn’t enough—he lied to me.”

“Everyone believed the confession, so they figured what harm would it do. Investigating it might have taken two or three months — Baker might have dragged out the trial into election season. Floyd wanted it to go away. And after the Quartermaines contacted him again, Floyd had Mac create the lab report in case anyone ever came looking.”

“But no one did. No one gave it a second thought. And he raped six more women.” Ned slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, looking helplessly up at Scott. “He raped my daughter. And now she’s dead. Because I made a phone call.”

“Bullshit to that.” Scott sliced his hand through the air. “Bullshit to all of that. You want to blame yourself for wanting Emily to have justice? For making sure Floyd knew the Quartermaines were watching? Any other man with a fucking conscience would have pushed back and told you there were other charges. Edward would have backed down. Your family might be ruthless and insane, but not one of you would have fed Elizabeth Webber to the wolves for Emily’s sake. Any other man would have told Edward and you about the rape case.”

“But Floyd didn’t.”

“And when he was faced with the serial rapist this summer, he tried to bury it. But it didn’t work.” Scott hesitated. “I know who leaked the investigation when Brooke was attacked. He leaked the attacks, not her name, Ned. Because he was angry. Because he wanted _justice_. And then when the mayor’s office got the first request for comment, I think Floyd put your daughter’s name out there. Because he’s the only one who benefited from having the spotlight on the PCPD and on your family.”

Ned took a deep breath and got to his feet. “Does Elizabeth know?”

“Taggert told her last night the case was re-opened, and she had questions about the rape kit. I think she’s curious what happened.”

“Then I think it’s time I tell her.” Ned lifted his chin. “And if she’s okay with it, I will use this to raze this city to the ground.”

**Luke** **’s: Office**

In the back office, while Claude was manning the bar, Lucky was leaning back in his chair, staring that ceiling. He’d gone into work for a little while that afternoon and discovered Elizabeth’s statement had been transcribed.

He’d sat down to read it, to see if he could offer any details or clarification because he knew how little she’d remembered about her attack.

Only to realize just how much of the horror she’d never told him about.

Kelsey knocked on the open door and waited a moment at the threshold. “Hey. Taggert called me. He said you’d stopped in. You saw her statement.”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, then walked in and rounded the desk. She set her briefcase down and leaned against the desk. “You didn’t listen to the tape, did you?”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “No. I didn’t—once I got to the end—” He shook his head. “She never…she was never able to do that before. You know? She couldn’t get through the details back then. I never—it’s stupid. It’s not about me.”

“No, but you went through it with her. And you’ve been remembering more and more of it in the last few months. It makes it now instead of then.” She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t even know her, and it was a hard statement to sit through. Sitting there, watching her relive it. But she’s strong, Lucky.”

“Yeah. She always was.”

“Are we interrupting?”

Lucky and Kelsey looked to find Dante and Cruz sauntering into the office. “Hey. I didn’t know you guys were off tonight,” Lucky said. He sat up and Kelsey straightened away from the desk.

“We were signing out for the night when we saw Elizabeth Webber made her statement. After we read it over…” Cruz shrugged. “Dante figured you might need to talk.” He grinned at Kelsey. “I guess we weren’t the only ones.”

“I can’t believe how much her statement sounds like Brooke’s attack,” Dante said as he sprawled out in one of Luke Spencer’s battered armchairs. “How did they not know?”

“Her original statement wasn’t that detailed,” Cruz reminded him. He shrugged and sat on the bench that stretched out along the wall next to the door. “That’s why you do follow-ups with cops who aren’t assholes.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dante grimaced. “Vinnie’s original interviews are bad. I mean, I know he’s worried about being a scapegoat for Floyd, and Taggert said he’d watch out for him, but I don’t know…maybe he _should_ be held responsible.”

He looked at Kelsey who had remained quiet so far. “What do you think?”

“I think Vinnie Esposito is a crappy cop,” Kelsey offered bluntly. “With poor training and not enough experience. I also think he’s a misogynistic asshole. To be honest, I’ll be surprised if he makes it out of this investigation without being written up.”

“What about the fact that the guy didn’t beat Elizabeth Webber like he did the rest of them?” Cruz asked. “Do you think that’s because she was the first and he was just…” He grimaced. “Figuring out what he liked?”

“I scared him off,” Lucky said dully. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “She said so in her statement. He didn’t get the chance.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dante told him. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

“My voice scared the guy off,” Lucky repeated. He closed his eyes. “But that means I should have heard him running away. I could have caught him—”

“And I could’ve been President if you listen to my mother,” Dante shook his head. “Look at it this way—her case doesn’t match the others, right? I mean, she wasn’t left unconscious and beaten nearly to a pulp. Because you stopped it.”

“Maybe.” Lucky sat up, then squinted at him. “Maybe. But maybe not.”

“What do you mean?” Kelsey asked as Lucky got up and crossed the room to dig through a box in the corner. “What is that?”

“I’ve been taking my own notes and bringing them home to think about the case when I’m not at the station. I read over all the victim statements and you’re right. Elizabeth doesn’t match the others.” He flipped through a notebook he brought back to his desk. “This thing about the hair. She didn’t remember that then. She only remembered he smelled like soap and that he said not a word.”

“Which he said to, what, four of the other victims?” Cruz squinted at him. “So?”

Kelsey frowned at him, her eyes narrowing with interest. “You think there’s something to the hair, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s always saying they’re not right. Did he say that to Elizabeth? Or maybe she just doesn’t remember then.”

“You’ve got a point. Let me think it over. I think there’s something there.” She looked at Cruz. “What do you think?”

“I think Lucky’s got a point. Elizabeth’s the first known victim. Her case is different. We should be looking at how they’re different.”

Lucky nodded. “All of the victims after Elizabeth say the _first_ thing, he did was handcuff them. But he doesn’t do that with Elizabeth.”

Dante nodded, “Okay. Maybe he learned from her.” He looked at Lucky. “But she still got handcuffed. How could she have forgotten that?”

“She was in denial at first. It took time for her to even admit what had happened even though I knew it right away. It was hell even getting her to go to Mercy to have the rape kit, to turn over her dress—that’s not my point. If we’re right, and the handcuffing wasn’t his first choice—”

“Then why did—” Dante exhaled slowly. “Why did he have handcuffs in the first place? Jesus, are you telling me you think it was a _cop_?”

“Or a security guard. One of those rent a cops. They hired them at the Harwin for a while back in 1997 and 1998. There were a lot of burglaries. I remember reading them in the papers. They had a bunch of officers on Central Avenue where the hotel was, but the Harwin and the businesses on the other side of the park hired a bunch of security firms to patrol the area.”

“Yeah, and sometimes they carry handcuffs to detain people until the cops get there. It’s not really legal, but we usually don’t bat an eye at it.”

Kelsey took a deep breath, looked at the trio of friends. “We’re going to run down every lead, guys. Even if it takes us to places we don’t really want to go.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Elizabeth had convinced Jason to take them to the PCPD on his bike, though he’d initially protested. Elizabeth had reminded him that Kelly had told them to let Elizabeth set her own limits and that she could do whatever she’d done before, at least for a while.

So, after she’d finished giving her statement, without being asked, Jason had taken them both on a ride on the cliff roads, to let the wind and the roar of the motorcycle clear their heads and try to put it out of their minds.

It worked. At least until they returned to the Towers parking garage and made their way upstairs to the penthouse. Jason nodded to the guard on duty in the hallway, but he and Elizabeth still didn’t say anything to each other when they were alone in the living room.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said after a long moment in which they stood there, looking at one another. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come—”

“It’s—” Jason shook his head, looked away. “I knew before that night at Jake’s—before you told me. I knew what you’d been through. Logically. Until these last weeks—until that letter from Baker and what’s happened to Brooke—I don’t think I ever really understood it.” He sighed. “And to listen to you go through it, it just—I don’t understand men who hurt women. And I hate that it happened to you. I hate that it’s _still_ happening.”

He shook his head again. “But this isn’t about me.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Jason. Yes. The rape exists in my head, and it’s not as locked away as it used to be. I hate that this case is open again, but maybe this time they’ll do it right.” She put her hands on his shoulders, sliding her fingers down to his elbows, then back up again. “It was hard back then, thinking that it had ruined my life. That I was never going to be able to fall in love and be normal. But Lucky, then you—you both proved to me I had so much more to give. And I’m okay. I’m not alone.”

He dipped his head down, let his forehead rest against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The phone on the desk rang then, and Jason sighed before pulling away to answer it. “Yeah?” He frowned. “Really? Okay. Send him up.”

He looked at Elizabeth, a bit bewildered. “Ned’s downstairs. He says he needs to talk to both of us.”

“Oh, man, I wonder if he found out about the first three cases.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Maybe he wants me to make a statement or something.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I know, I know. You want me to avoid stress.” She held her wrist out to him. “Go ahead, check my pulse.” She was joking, but Jason clearly wasn’t.

By the time Ned reached the door, Jason was satisfied that her pulse rate was normal and had let her sit down.

“I’m sorry to just show up,” Ned told them when he closed the door. “But I just—I had a source leak some details about my daughter’s investigation.”

“Taggert came to talk to us last night,” Elizabeth said as Ned sat down in the armchair. “I know my case was reopened. That the case count is up to seven.”

“I’m glad he finally let you in on it, but did he explain what happened to your rape kit?” Ned pressed.

Elizabeth exchanged a troubled look with Jason. “Is that what your source told you? How my kit was messed up?”

“I need your okay before I go public with this,” Ned said, “because what I’m about to tell you is going to ensure that Garrett Floyd’s days as mayor are done.”


	24. Chapter Forty-Three

_Underdog, just look at the mess you've made_  
_It's such a shame, a shame_  
_We had to find out this way_  
_Revenge loves company, three makes it a crowd_  
_So wash your mouth, sit this one out_  
\- Underdog, You Me At Six

* * *

_Monday, September 15, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Lucky stepped quickly to one side as Vinnie Esposito stormed out of the squad room, letting the heavy doors slam against the wall in his haste. Lucky pressed his lips together, shook his head, then continued towards Taggert’s desk where the lieutenant was hunched over a pile of paperwork, irritation etched into his features.

“What’s wrong with Vinnie?” Lucky asked, taking a seat next to the desk.

“Floyd has filed an official complaint against him,” Taggert muttered. “Dereliction of duty in not making the link between our seven cases.” He scowled, slammed a folder shut. “He’s making Vinnie the scapegoat. He wasn’t even the investigating officer on the first three cases.”

“Then—”

“He was a patrol officer assigned to the Major Crimes unit back then. Floyd’s argument is that if Vinnie was any good at his job, he should have seen the connection.” He looked at Lucky. “He’s not wrong. I know what you’re thinking.”

Lucky shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to condemn Vinnie in the back room at Luke’s with his friends and girlfriend, but Taggert was their commanding officer. “I mean, the cases weren’t on the computer and as a patrol officer, no, we don’t really get to see a lot of the cases the investigating officers do. If they don’t bring us in—” He hesitated. “He wasn’t assigned to Elizabeth’s case. I—I don’t remember him being there when we came in—”

“Not the Webber case, no. Garcia handled that personally, then I took it over. There wasn’t a lot of leg work to do on the case.” Taggert grimaced. “But Vinnie was the first officer on scene for both Lopez and Logan. But then he moved, and both cases were cold for almost three years. I don’t know. Another cop might have seen it—”

“I’m not defending him,” Lucky said. “But even if he had linked the cases, what good would it have done? You saw what Floyd did when you did link them.” He shook his head. “He treated the victims like crap, and that sucks. Because it meant they weren’t eager to cooperate. But at the end of the day, if their statements had been better, if he had linked the cases—it still would have landed on Floyd and Mac.”

“Yeah.” He eyed Lucky. “Kelsey left me a message. Said you had something you wanted to run by me.” When Lucky scowled, Taggert grinned slightly. “She said she thought you might not be comfortable bringing it up yourself and wanted to make sure you did.”

Lucky would have to talk to her about that, but he didn’t have a lot of choice now. “Yeah, we—Dante, Cruz, me, and Kelsey—we were going over the victim statements.” He swallowed hard. “And I was thinking about Elizabeth’s.”

“Listen—I know that must have been hard for you read,” Taggert began but Lucky shook his head.

“It’s not—I can’t change anything. I can’t make myself get to the park faster or not—I can’t change it,” he repeated. “But the thing about the handcuffs…Elizabeth _never_ remembered that while we were investigating ourselves. She remembered the soap, remembered the words, but not the handcuffs or the hair. So, I never knew any of that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The other victims — they’re all pretty clear on how it happened. They got grabbed, they got thrown to the ground, punched in the face, then flipped and handcuffed. It was a routine for him by the time—” Lucky’s stomach rolled. “By the time he got to Wendy Morris and Brooke Ashton.”

“But not with Elizabeth.” Taggert pulled out her case file, pulled out her statement. “He threw her to the ground, slapped her, took off her coat. Elizabeth was probably fighting him, he took her hands—but yeah, I see it now. Handcuffing wasn’t his first move. So that’s something he realized would work after that attack.”

“Which, one, makes it more likely she’s the first victim,” Lucky told him, “and two—”

“Why did he have handcuffs?” Taggert finished. He exhaled slowly. “You don’t think—”

“I’m not saying it was a cop,” Lucky said with a shake of his head. “I’m just…I’m remembering that the businesses around the park were dealing with a bunch of thefts and burglaries. A bunch of places hired private security—”

“Who might have had handcuffs.” Taggert sat back in his chair. “I remember that. A bunch of teenagers breaking into places, vandalizing. We never caught them, but they hired a bunch of their own guys. We could only spare officers for Central Avenue—” He nodded. “It’s a hunch, but I think you might be right. I think the handcuffs were a spur of the moment thing. But why don’t you think it was a cop?”

“’I—” Lucky pressed his lips together. “I guess there’s no reason it can’t be. I just don’t want it to be.”

“Fair enough. But we can’t rule it out. So why don’t you, Dante, and Cruz tackle the security firms. Get a list of the companies used. Run down their employees. I’ll look at the other angle.”

“I could—”

“I can do it more quietly than you can,” Taggert said as they both stood up. “I doubt that’s what we’re looking at, but I’m not ruling it out either.”

Lucky managed a tight smile as he left Taggert’s desk and went to the desk he, Dante, and Cruz shared. He dialed into his voice messages and was surprised when he picked up one from Elizabeth, asking him to lunch that day at Kelly’s.

He thought about ducking, not sure he was ready to face her after reading the details of her statement, but instead, he picked up the phone to accept.

**Quartermaine Estate: Family Room **

It took two more days before Ned had the energy to take on his family and tell Edward Quartermaine exactly what their pressure on Garrett Floyd five years earlier had ultimately cost this family.

He found his grandfather lingering over his coffee at the breakfast table with Monica as she read the newspaper. Edward looked up at his entrance, furrowing his brow. “Ned. This is a surprise. I thought you’d be locked up with Jax and Alexis preparing for the debate next week.”

“I’m not worried about the debate,” Ned said as he joined them at the table. “Good morning, Monica.”

“Ned.” She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a source leak some information he thought might be useful against Floyd.” Ned picked up a silver spoon, twirled it in his fingers. “You remember Tom Baker?”

“The lunatic that went after Emily and her friends?” Edward set his coffee down. “I know he’s up for parole in December. I already made calls to scuttle that. He’ll serve the full fifteen years if I have anything to say about it. It’s the least I can do for poor Elizabeth Webber—” He frowned. “How does Baker help you with the election?”

“You had me call Floyd back then,” Ned reminded him. He looked at Monica. “The case was airtight, and we wanted him to go away for good. Twenty-five years before parole was even an option. There was a chance he might try to squiggle around the kidnapping charges, and we didn’t want that.”

“I remember,” Monica murmured. “Emily was adamant that he go to trial. She wanted to face him the way Elizabeth had. But…”

“I told Floyd to get it done. Whatever he had to do.” Ned took a deep breath. “We never knew about the charges of rape. Emily didn’t tell us. At least not me or Grandfather.”

“No, she told me,” Monica said as her hand fisted next to her plate. “She told me, and I think she might have told Jason. What does—”

“What did he do?” Edward demanded.

“About a month after the kidnapping, Taggert told Elizabeth that the case was being ruled inactive. That the rape kit had come back negative. There wasn’t enough evidence against Baker, so they were going after him on the kidnapping. She was upset at the trial—”

“And we called back.” His grandfather suddenly looked very old. “But Mac told us there wasn’t enough evidence. Ned, _what_ did Floyd do?”

“They never ran the rape kit, did they?” Monica murmured. “I remember Emily talking about it when the story hit the newspapers—about not running the kits until there was a suspect. She said that’s what happened to Elizabeth. But I know that lab work can take up to six weeks, if not longer. If Taggert knew a month after the kidnapping—that’s barely enough time—”

“The PCPD never investigated Elizabeth’s accusation against Baker at all?” Edward roared as he got to his feet. “I _demanded_ they get her justice—I—” He looked at Monica, almost helplessly. “I never—Steve and Audrey’s granddaughter—”

“We leaned on him to make sure Emily’s case stayed on his radar. I never thought he’d throw away another case to get it done. And when the Baker case had the mistrial, he probably forced Dara Jensen to make a deal. To make it go away.”

“I can see how this might damage Floyd’s credibility,” Monica said slowly, “but—” And then Ned saw the news hit her. Sink in. She closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Edward demanded. “What—” He looked to Ned. “He never ran the rape kit. He closed her case—but Baker confessed—” He sank back into his chair. “Didn’t he?”

“The running theory is that Elizabeth gave him an opening and he lied to her to control her. To scare her. But no. Her kit was run this summer as part of the investigation. And she is now the earliest known victim of the same man who killed my daughter.”

Monica stifled a sob, her hands over her mouth as tears slid down her cheeks. “No, no. _No_. Not the same man. Not the same. _All_ this time—”

“How many women?” Edward asked, more quietly now. “How many women in total?”

“That we know about? Seven, including Elizabeth and Brooke. They’re the first and last known victims. But there’s a two-year gap. He could have moved around. He could have killed the other victims. We might never know how many there are.” Ned absently rubbed his chest. “The pressure we put on Floyd five years ago…we can directly link it to this summer and my daughter’s death.”

“We couldn’t have—” Edward gestured helplessly. “We couldn’t have known. I tried to get her—” He looked at Monica. “I tried to get her justice, Monica. For her and for Emily. I _tried_. I only wanted that man to pay.”

“And the best I can say about everyone involved is we all thought Baker was guilty. He’d confessed, hadn’t he? Mac and Taggert believed him.” Ned shook his head. “But we were wrong. And we would have known that if Mac had run the kit.”

“This—this isn’t like him. Floyd must have something on him—threatened his job. Mac has a family—he was putting Robin through college. He had Felicia’s girls—” Monica took a deep breath. “But he should have said something.”

“Does Elizabeth know what happened?” Edward asked, looked at his grandson. “Does Jason? Or Emily?”

“I don’t know about Emily, but I went to Jason and Elizabeth on Saturday. After everything the media put my daughter through a few months ago, I would have—I never would have said a word without her blessing.”

“I have to talk to her. To see them.” Edward looked at Monica. “I have to make sure she knows I _never_ meant—”

“She knows, Grandfather,” Ned said, reaching over to touch his forearm. “I promise that. But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind hearing it from you directly.”

“Did she give permission to go public?” Monica asked, leaning forward.

“She’s thinking it over,” Ned admitted. “She wants it out there, she’s just not sure how involved she wants to be. There—” He looked at Monica who briefly nodded. “She’s still recovering from her embolism this summer. So, she’s considering her options. There’s more, Grandfather. But it’s separate from Elizabeth’s case. My source—he suspects that there were two leaks after Brooke’s attack.”

“I thought the same,” his grandfather admitted. “The first round was just the attacks—the ones from this year, but then a few hours later, Brooke’s name was in the tabloids.”

“Sc—my source thinks the first leak was from inside the department—someone angry at the inaction, at the lack of public warning. And he thinks that as soon as the first wave of calls came in, Floyd leaked Brooke’s name to turn some of the spotlight off him.”

“That son of a bitch,” Edward breathed. “He won’t live until the election. Mark my words. I will—” He scowled. “Can we prove it? Because I will—”

“Not yet,” Ned told him. “But I will. Because once we go public with this, he’ll need a miracle to win this election.”

**Kelly** **’s: Courtyard**

Elizabeth set her bag on the table and took a seat across from Lucky. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course.” He shifted in his chair. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you a few times over the last few months, but I just—after Brooke and everything else.” He looked away.

Lucas Jones came over to take their order, but she only asked for a water while Lucky asked for his usual lunch special. “I guess you heard I gave a statement.”

“I’m on the case, so I read it.” Lucky stared down at the table. “I—I guess a lot of it came back after all.” He looked up at her. “I know it’s not my fault, but I just—”

“When I think of what I know now the other women went through—most of them ended up in the hospital.” Elizabeth sighed, folded her arms on the table. “I think maybe he would have raped me again or beaten me. Either way, you’re the reason the attack ended. So, thank you for looking for me that night. If you hadn’t found me, if I hadn’t had you, your father, or Bobbie, I don’t know if I could have kept myself together.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Taggert wouldn’t tell me how long my case had been open again—and he certainly refused to tell me anything about why my negative rape kit suddenly cleared Baker.” Elizabeth stared at him. “So, what I want to know, Lucky, is how long did you know that the mayor and Mac covered my case up and made me disappear?”

Before he could answer, Lucas returned with their drink orders, then disappeared, giving Lucky a minute to gather his thoughts.

“How long have I known for sure?” Lucky asked. “I still don’t. The official department stance is there was a clerical error. But I suspected it when we first got sent down to cold storage. Just after Brooke died. We found the later two cases—but not yours. I knew something was wrong, so we went over to the closed storage. I thought—honestly, I wanted to believe it was a mistake. Your case wasn’t technically solved, but we all thought the guy responsible was away.”

“So, it’s been two months of the PCPD trying to cover their asses. Again.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. Nodded. “I get that we’re never going to be close again, Lucky, but I would have thought after everything we’ve been through, I merited a little more loyalty than some job you just started—”

“I wanted to tell you,” Lucky hissed. He grimaced. “I wanted to. But what could I say? Your case got royally fucked up either through outright corruption or just plain negligence? You were barely out of the hospital, and I knew you were recovering. I didn’t even know if we’d be able to open your case officially. If we’d get enough evidence. I watched you put yourself back together, Elizabeth. There was no way in hell I was going to rip your life apart over a maybe.”

“I guess you’re right,” Elizabeth said finally. “What good would it have done for me to know my case was reopened if my kit did actually come back negative this time.” She rubbed her head. “And it’s not like the PCPD knew that Baker had sent me that letter. Jason and I didn’t come forward about that, either. He left a message on the hotline, he told me later, but we all could have been more up front.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” Lucky shook his head. “How did you find out about Floyd and Mac? Kelsey and I thought—we theorized, but you’re saying it like it’s a fact.”

“Someone in the position to know told Ned Ashton who has reasons for knowing it’s true,” Elizabeth told him. “But that stays between us, do you understand? Because I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about it, and Ned deserves the chance to make Floyd’s life a living hell.”

“I agree.” Lucky leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “But Ned knows. Good. I hope whoever told him got all the details right so he can win in November. What does _he_ want to do with it?”

“He’s not sure either. He doesn’t want to inflict any more stress on me after what Brooke went through when her name got leaked.” Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked away, through the window of Kelly’s. “I could let Ned issue a statement. Refuse comment. I could do the least. I deserve to put this behind me. This doesn’t have to be my fight. And I’ve spent a lot of time fighting other people’s wars. I’ve put my life on the line too many times.”

Knowing what she went through because of the Cassadines, because of Ric Lansing, Lucky nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“But I also remember that night—you didn’t have to make me your fight either.” Elizabeth focused on him. “You could have taken me to the hospital. Called the cops. But you didn’t. You listened to me, you got me help I could live with. And Bobbie was a godsend. But you didn’t have to keep worrying about me.”

“How could I have looked away—”

“Because that’s not who your mother raised you to be,” Elizabeth gently. “And that’s maybe why you’ll make a good cop. I never would have picked this for you, but I hope it makes you happy. Because the girl who crawled out the snow? She never would have picked herself up if you hadn’t been there to hold out a hand.”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “But I know you, Elizabeth. Lizzie,” he teased as she laughed. “The girl I knew before that night—little annoying Lizzie Webber? She got scared. But she wouldn’t have stayed scared for long. I was there to hold out a hand, but the girl I fell in love with? She would have clawed her way back to the surface eventually.”

Elizabeth smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe she would have. You know, I blamed Lizzie a lot for that night. I always tell myself not to listen to the Lizzie voice. It always got me in trouble. She made my life a living hell a lot of the time. But I _am _Lizzie. That’s just the voice reminding me that it’s okay to step out and take a chance. This whole thing—this investigation? It doesn’t have to be my fight. But I’m going to make it mine. Because Brooke isn’t here anymore. And there are so many other women—even men—so many people who get sexually assaulted, raped, beaten—they get thrown away. And honestly? There aren’t enough people picking the fight.”

**Baldwin Home: Living Room**

Bobbie gingerly set her purse down on Scott’s coffee table and eyed him as he took a seat across from her. “Are you sure this is okay? Serena won’t be coming home? This might take a while—”

“She’s on a trip with Lucy and Kevin looking at colleges.” Scott rolled his shoulders. “I wanted to go, but I think I need to be in town this week. I think some shit is going to hit the fan in the park rapist case, and well, Serena isn’t going to listen to me about anything anyway.”

“Teenagers rarely do.” Bobbie folded her hands in her lap. “You said you were able to avoid turning over any evidence of Sonny’s breakdown.”

“Yeah, I got a lucky break. A judge quashed the subpoena.” Scott leaned back, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa. “Is that what you were worried about?”

“Yes. No.” Bobbie hesitated. “You probably know Carly is staying with me right now.”

“I did. She called me in case I needed to get in touch about the case.” Scott shook his head. “I’m sorry she’s having trouble with Sonny, but I’m not sorry she’s thinking about walking away.”

“The thing is—” she bit her lip. “She’ll be angry that I’m here, and I’m prepared for that. Because I think—I think I need to force his hand. She left because he’s—he’s not well. I mean, that’s not _why_ she left. But it’s part of everything.”

Scott frowned at her. “Bobbie, I told you, Sonny’s mental health isn’t going to be part of the case—”

“But maybe it should be,” she argued. “I don’t know—I don’t know. Maybe what’s wrong with him is genetic. Maybe it explains Ric. But I just—he fell apart after Carly got kidnapped. Courtney called the PCPD, they were searching the penthouse, and Sonny—I’m not sure exactly when it started but by that Friday—the day before we found Carly, he’d lost it.”

“Lost it,” Scott repeated. “Bobbie—”

“Jason and I were going over what we knew at his place. We were both desperate, at the end of our rope, you know? And Courtney rushed in because Sonny was having hallucinations. He thought he saw Lily. He thought Lily was in the room with him, blaming him for her death, for what happened to Carly—”

“He hallucinated his dead wife.” Scott exhaled slowly. “You said you didn’t know when it started?”

“Jason said the last time he’d talked to Sonny was Tuesday—that by then, Sonny was already not taking visitors. Not dealing with business. He was drinking heavily. He was already fraying at the edges. And Jason—he was under a lot of pressure with looking for Carly and worrying about Elizabeth. When Sonny had his hallucinations—I saw them, Scott. I _saw_ him talking to Lily. Telling me what Lily was saying. We had to sedate him.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know if you can even do anything, but I can’t sit idly by, knowing my daughter, my grandchildren—that they’re in a home with a mentally ill man who knows he has these breakdowns and _refuses_ to get help.”

Scott rubbed his hands over his face. “Bobbie. C’mon. You know what Sonny would think if he knew you were telling me this—what your daughter would think—”

“They’ll be angry with me. Sonny might never forgive me,” Bobbie admitted. “But I can live with that. Because I can’t lose another daughter, Scott. You know what I’m talking about. If not for Jason, I don’t know what would have happened to Carly this summer. Elizabeth would probably be dead. Sonny was useless.”

“And it’s not like the PCPD was making any headway,” Scott muttered. “Yeah, okay. I don’t—there’s no way this is relevant to the Lansing case. At least not now. And I’m under no obligation to tell him anything now that the judge said go to hell. But I get it, Bobbie. You see your daughter in trouble and you’re desperate to help her.”

Grief lined his face as he sat back. “You know, Karen got her life together. She moved on. She lived, she loved, and then she died. In a senseless car accident.” He shook his head. “But I’ve never forgiven Sonny Corinthos for what he did to her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can help you with this, Bobbie. Not legally. But if you need me—” he leaned forward again, his voice intent. “I will be here for you. Whatever you need. In fact, because you deserve to know—there’s something you ought to know. Elizabeth might have already told you, but—”

He told her about Floyd and Mac covering up Elizabeth’s rape case and making it go away, and the pressure they’d been under from the Quartermaines. Bobbie exhaled slowly after he’d finished.

“Lucky has suspected for a while,” she admitted. “He told me a few days ago what he thought happened.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I meant about the rape case coming to a head because I—I told Ned Ashton. And he’s getting together with Elizabeth to figure out exactly how to go public with it all.”

Bobbie lifted a brow. “Really? I—I wouldn’t have thought—”

“After everything he’s been through because of this town—I’m a father, too. I couldn’t let it happen again. I couldn’t let it keep happening. And I feel like hell about what happened to Elizabeth.” He shook his head. “Elizabeth didn’t deserve what happened to her. All of those women deserved better from us. The least I could do was make sure Garrett Floyd is never in a position to hurt anyone else.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Jason placed the phone back on the receiver as he shook his head and looked over at Elizabeth sitting on the sofa, studying a cookbook like there was going to be a test. “Monica’s here. With Edward.”

Elizabeth blinked up at him, her brow furrowing. “I guess the trend of unexpected visitors continues.” She closed the book and set it on the coffee table. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Ned said he’d talk to him this week.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, still not wild that all of this was happening at a time when Elizabeth needed to be concentrating on herself, putting her health first. But she’d allowed him to take her pulse every time he’d asked, and her blood pressure had remained stable.

She was stronger than she looked, and he guessed he’d eventually be able to let go of the gnawing fear that if he took his eyes off her for a single second—He’d left her alone in that house, and he’d returned to find her nearly dead. It was probably going to take a while to forget it.

It was probably the first time Edward Quartermaine had been inside this penthouse since Jason had moved in, and part of Jason wasn’t entirely comfortable letting him in at all. If Monica wasn’t with him—

“Thank you for seeing us,” Monica said as Jason closed the door behind them. She looked at him sadly before looking at Elizabeth who had gotten to her feet. “I’m sorry it’s late, but Edward waited for me to be done at the hospital.”

“I—” Edward just looked at Elizabeth and shook his head. “Ned told us today—and I just—” He shook his head again. “I have nothing to say. I thought—this is my fault.”

“No,” Elizabeth said quickly. She touched Edward’s elbow. “Of course it’s not. I told Ned that as well. I knew how upset your family was after what happened in the studio. I’m not at all surprised you made phone calls to make sure no one got away with what happened.”

“I just—I didn’t know.” Edward allowed Elizabeth to lead him to the sofa. “After—when I did know, I _tried_ to make them investigate—”

“Ned told us,” Jason said, roughly, visibly affected by the old man’s anguish. “Mac gave you the same lie he gave to Elizabeth. They buried her case because they thought Baker was guilty.”

“But if they’d run the kit,” Monica said tightly, shaking her head. “If they’d run all of those poor women’s kits, Brooke—”

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself,” Edward murmured. “All my life I’ve used my name to push what I wanted, what I thought my family needed—”

“They were never going to investigate Baker,” Elizabeth told Edward gently. She took his hand in hers. “Because they still could have run my kit. The day he was arrested, they knew he was a suspect. When did you call? When did Ned contact Floyd?”

“Almost a week later—” Edward nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“They knew Baker was going down for the kidnapping. They thought the case was airtight. Why go to the trouble of investigating my case, spending time and money when they didn’t need the charges? They put my case with the solved ones, not to bury it, Edward, but because that’s what they thought. My case wasn’t legally over, but it _never_ would have come off that shelf.”

And this gave her some sense of peace. Nothing she’d done could have changed what happened. If she’d reported right away, if she’d had a rape kit done that night instead a few days later—none of that would have changed the fact the PCPD was always going to take the easy way out.

“You deserved better than that. Brooke deserved better.” Edward got to his feet, looked at Jason. “This is what drove you away. The way I used the Quartermaine name to control the family.”

Jason shifted his eyes away, didn’t know how to answer that. “Part of the reason,” he finally said. “But I agree with Elizabeth. Based on the timing, I don’t think they were ever going to look into Baker. Your call just gave them the excuse they needed. Mac had already made the decision even if he didn’t know it yet.”

“Ned said you were thinking about how involved you wanted to be in all of this,” Monica said, looking at Elizabeth.

“I wasn’t sure,” Elizabeth admitted. She looked at Edward and bit her lip. “It turns out I’m pregnant and I’ve been ordered to avoid stress.”

Edward’s eyes lit up with pure joy, and she was relieved the news had been enough to shake him out of his doldrums a bit. “Really?”

“Thanks to Enduro condoms,” Monica said, sweetly. Edward shot her a glare, then returned his attention to Elizabeth.

“That’s wonderful news, my dear. And if I could share it with Lila—” When Elizabeth grinned, Edward wagged a finger at her. “Oh, I see. She already knows. Am I the last?”

“Very nearly,” Jason muttered.

But Edward ignored him. “This is very good news,” he repeated. “And you shouldn’t do anything that puts this sweet baby at risk.”

“I won’t. I’m following the doctor’s orders to the letter. Jason takes my blood pressure in the morning and at night. And I let him check my pulse every time he asks.”

Monica smirked. “Every hour on the hour?” she asked her son.

“No,” Jason said. He looked away. “Every other hour.” She patted his arm.

“And my health—my baby—that _is_ my first priority. But I can’t ignore—I can’t ignore that for years, no one has taken these cases seriously. And Brooke’s last—I was her last call. I was the last person to hear her voice.” Her voice broke suddenly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath. “She’s not here, so someone needs to stand up for her. This happened to me. I’m the one they threw away. I’m the one they sacrificed. So—”

She looked at Jason, then back at Edward. “Call Ned. We’ll do this right. I want to hold a hold a press conference where I tell everyone exactly what the PCPD did to me and what ended up happening to all the women who came after. I’m not that weak little girl anymore, and it’s time to make people pay for throwing us all away.”


	25. Chapter Forty-Four

_And I am feeling so small_  
_It was over my head_  
_I know nothing at all_  
_And I will stumble and fall_  
_I'm still learning to love_  
_Just starting to crawl_  
\- Say Something, A Great Big World

* * *

_Tuesday, September 16, 2003 _

**PCPD: Conference Room**

Lucky set down his paperwork and took a seat, waiting for Kelsey and Taggert to finish setting up a white board in the corner of the room. They were both arguing over something, but he wasn’t really paying attention.

He felt better after clearing the air with Elizabeth the day before—he hadn’t realized just how much guilt and frustration he’d been carrying around about not telling her that her case was opened again, that Baker wasn’t guilty.

He and the others had spent all day on the phone and on the street trying to track down the security companies as well their company lists, but it had been slow, and Lucky didn’t have a lot to show for that part of the investigation. He’d been nominated to represent them as neither Dante nor Cruz wanted talk about how little they’d found.

“Fine,” Kelsey said to Taggert as she threw up her hands and walked over the table. “We’re done arguing about this. Let’s just start.”

“Did you get anything on the guards?” Tagger added as they both took a seat.

“We managed to get the companies, but a lot of them are being cranky about their employee lists,” Lucky admitted. “We didn’t tell them why—we figured you wouldn’t want anyone to know where we were looking.”

“Yeah. Stay on it. It’s one of the few leads we have,” Taggert said. He looked at Kelsey, who cleared her throat.

“Lucky, the thing Taggert and I were arguing about was asking you to dig into Elizabeth’s past.” Lucky frowned at her and Kelsey averted her eyes as she continued. “Because we have another theory of the case—another lead. What we were talking about—all the ways her case was different—” Kelsey looked at Taggert before looking back at Lucky. “It made me think we were really on to something.”

“We think Elizabeth isn’t just the first known victim or the first victim, but she might be our trigger victim.” Taggert tapped a pencil against a notepad. “We think the guy might have known her.”

“That maybe she was a target.” Lucky exhaled slowly. “Are you—How—” He looked at Kelsey. “Why didn’t you say anything? Yesterday. Last night. Any time since Luke’s.’

“I didn’t—” Kelsey bit her lip. “I wanted to talk it over with Taggert. To make sure I wasn’t just…seeing things.” She widened her eyes a bit at him as if to suggest they’d talk about it later.

“Okay. Fine. Why do you think she’s the trigger?”

“Well, the handcuffs were a clue,” Kelsey admitted. “But also the hair. He told our other victims their hair wasn’t right. But that’s not something that happened to Elizabeth. Now maybe it’s simply something she doesn’t remember—”

“But the victims remember the beating beginning after the hair. Elizabeth didn’t have the same injuries—that could be because you showed up,” Taggert continued, “or—”

“Elizabeth was someone he knew,” Lucky finished. “That he’d been following her, waiting for an opportunity.” Jesus Christ. He unclenched his fists, stretched out his fingers. “And that the other women are just…”

“He’s trying to recreate that first experience. Sometimes the first attack gives you a high you simply cannot replicate,” Kelsey said. “Or there’s something about Elizabeth herself. So, I thought—we thought you might be able to help us see if there’s something about Elizabeth that might have triggered the other attacks.”

“If maybe there’s a reason for the other dates,” Lucky said. He looked at Taggert. “I don’t know—” Then he stopped. “Theresa Lopez. April 26, 1999. That’s a week after the fire at the garage.”

Taggert got up, went to the white board and scribbled _garage fire_ under the second victim’s picture. “Okay. What about Veronica Logan? January 2, 2000—” He frowned, tapped the marker against the board. “You weren’t home yet, but that was about a week after the Christmas party at General Hospital. Nikolas went after Jason Morgan. He came in to file assault charges, and I remember seeing it in the gossip papers, all over the _Sun_.”

He wrote _Christmas party _under Veronica Logan’s name. “And I bet there was some mention of Elizabeth in the papers after that fire,” he told Lucky.

“February 14 of this year?” Kelsey pressed. “Could it be simply the anniversary?”

“Maybe,” Taggert admitted, writing _anniversary _under Dana Watson’s name. “Audrey’s obituary would have been in the papers, and I think there was a large write up about her in the _Herald_ about her hospital service.”

“Yeah, they wrote about Steve and Audrey and their family. I could pull it, but I’m sure they would have mentioned Elizabeth,” Lucky pointed out. “What about May 30?”

“Her marriage to Ric was in the paper the week before, and there was a story about her miscarriage, about her fall in the _Sun. _Sonny Corinthos was suspected, but we never found out who actually pushed her.” Taggert made another note under Renee Norton’s name. “July 2 is easy. Elizabeth was in the hospital, all over the papers. And that continued throughout most of July.”

“What, are we saying this guy stalks Elizabeth through the papers and rapes someone every time she’s in there?” Lucky asked skeptically. “Because that doesn’t track. What about the Face of Deception modeling? She was in the papers for that. We were supposed to get married, and her car accident. Then last year, she was kidnapped.”

“All of that happened during the period our guy was dormant. He might have gone to jail for something unrelated. We could check intake and out take release records,” Taggert pointed out. “His DNA wouldn’t be on file unless it was a felony or required for the case.”

“I can run a search,” Kelsey offered. “I mean, the dates match, Lucky. Something happened in Elizabeth’s life near enough to the dates of the attacks that I don’t think we can rule it out.”

“No, I guess not. I just—I don’t like the idea—it was bad enough when it was just a serial rapist that was never caught…but if you’re right, if this guy _knew_ Elizabeth, and he’s been stalking her—” Lucky shook his head. “It’s almost too horrible to imagine.”

“You and Liz were close around the time she was attacked, right?” Taggert asked. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I thought you could think back to that time, think about the people who were around her. I’m not saying Liz knew the guy—”

“But he might have seen her at Kelly’s or something,” Lucky said, grimacing. “Yeah. I guess—I can talk to Emily and Sarah. Maybe Nikolas. I’m actually seeing Emily, Nikolas, and Elizabeth for dinner tonight. Can I—can I run this by her?”

“I don’t want to upset her any more than I have to,” Taggert said after a long moment. “But I also don’t want to hide anything from her either. Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about what Elizabeth said at the end of her statement,” Kelsey said. “About Baker knowing the color of her dress. How easily he went along with her story.”

“I thought the DNA cleared him,” Lucky said, frowning. “How—”

“Maybe he knew something,” Taggert said. “It bothered me, too. I looked at his history. I called a friend at the _Herald_ to pull some background on him. She said that she called some sources at the NYPD. He left New York around 1995, but there were a few open cases of extortion where he was a person of interest. A few lower level clients of Baker’s studio claiming he was asking for more money to keep bad photos from circulating. It didn’t go anywhere, but he left the city.”

“That jives with him blackmailing Emily, even though in hindsight he must have been nuts to go after a Quartermaine with connections to the Cassadines and Jason Morgan.” Kelsey pursed her lips. “Did she have anything useful for us, though?”

“No, but I heard back from Brenda Barrett today. She remembered Baker hiring security at his photo shoots. Sometimes it was a company, and sometimes it was an off-duty cop, moonlighting for extra money.”

“Maybe our guy knew Baker, too. Bragged to him.” Kelsey shrugged. “Do you want to talk to Baker again?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to arrange a visit. Make sure he tells me the truth.” He looked at Lucky. “Keep Dante and Cruz on the security companies. Kelsey is going to look into the backgrounds of anyone in the PCPD working here then. I want you to look into Elizabeth. It’s a long shot, but maybe you or a friend, or even family might remember something. We’re going to find this guy, Spencer. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Conference Room**

Ned frowned when he saw Olivia Falconieri sitting at the long table with paperwork in front of her. “I’m sorry—the clerk in the lobby must have given me the wrong—”

“No, you’re in the right place.” Olivia got to her feet. “I told you I was sticking around Port Charles. As long as Dante is, anyway.” She rounded the table and held out her hand. Ned shook it. “Edward didn’t mention hiring me as facilities manager?”

“No, but I’ve been busy.” Ned glanced around the room, furrowing his brow. “You got the memo? We’re holding a press conference on Friday.”

“Yes.” Olivia picked up a clipboard from the table, perused it. “Alexis sent over the list of media you want to invite, and she said there would be a few statements made.” She looked up at him, tipped her head. “We’ll be ready, so we just need to sign the papers. I could have faxed these to your campaign office—”

“I didn’t have anything else to do today and it’s important—I need to make sure you got the note about having a room ready. The next room, I think, it’s an unused office?”

“Alexis said one of the people giving a statement might have some difficulties.” Olivia frowned. “Is this…is this about your daughter’s case? Was there a lead? Lois didn’t say anything, and Dante’s been pretty close-lipped—”

“She doesn’t know yet. No one does. It hasn’t hit the papers yet. They’re keeping this one close to the chest.” Ned leaned against the table. “Elizabeth Webber is going to give a statement. I’m not sure about the content, but the gist is going to be that she was raped by the same man in 1998. The PCPD didn’t bother to run the basic lab work that would have exonerated a suspect in custody for other crimes. Her case and two others were basically ignored for three years until he came back, raped four more women, and drove my daughter to suicide.”

Olivia stared at him for a long moment before slowly exhaling. “You’re not…you’re not serious, are you?”

“I wish I were kidding. I wish this was just a nightmare I could wake up from.” Ned rubbed his eyes. “Someone leaked this to me, so I took it to Elizabeth. Someone has to stand up for her. Mac, Floyd—everyone at the PCPD refused to five years ago and my little girl paid the price. I didn’t do enough for Brooke. But I can do this.”

“Yeah, it seems like the kind of thing the public should know, but…” Olivia pursed her lips. “What will you do after the election? When Floyd is gone, when you’ve fired the commissioner?”

“I—” Ned shook his head. “I’ll be the mayor. I’ll work—”

“I mean, when this case is over, when Elizabeth Webber doesn’t need you to fight her battles…” Olivia handed him the paperwork to sign. “What happens then?”

“You mean when there’s nothing left to do for Brooke?” Ned scribbled his name at the bottom. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when that happens.”

**Kelly** **’s: Lucky’s Room**

Lucky tugged a pair of jeans from his dresser with one hand as he towel-dried his hair with the other. He looked over at the sound of his door opening and frowned as he saw Kelsey close the door behind her. “Hey. I thought—”

“I waited for you after work.” She leaned against the door, her eyes a bit sad. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.” He tossed the towel over the back of a chair and sat on the bed to pull his jeans over the briefs he wore. “I told you I was having dinner with my brother, Emily, and Elizabeth tonight.”

“I thought we’d talk after work.” Kelsey bit her lip, folding her arms. “I know you’re mad that I just…that Taggert and I talked about all of that without running it past you first—”

“He’s the lead investigator, you’re the ADA. I’m just a patrol—”

“Stop—”

Kelsey put a hand on his chest as he started past her to grab a shirt from where he’d left a pile of laundry. “Stop talking past me.”

He stilled, then looked down at her. “What do you want me to say? We’ve been working on this case together for months. We talked on Saturday about Elizabeth’s case being different. And instead of telling me what you thought that meant, you went to Taggert.” He shrugged. “You made it very clear what you think of my contributions—”

“I was wrong, okay?” She balled her hands into fists at her side. “I wanted to protect you—”

“Protect—” Lucky exhaled slowly. “Because of my memories. Because there are still some spots that aren’t so great.”

“You’re—” Kelsey swallowed hard, her voice just a little raspy as she continued. “You think I don’t know how much this all hurts you? I know we talked on Saturday. I know you know you shouldn’t blame yourself. But I know you, Lucky Spencer. And you _do_ blame yourself for what happened to Elizabeth. For not taking her to that stupid dance. For not being quicker. For not realizing the guy was still in the area—”

Lucky sank on the bed. “It’s not my fault,” he said, but even he heard the lie in his voice. “Kelsey—”

“I thought—God, I thought if I told you that I thought Elizabeth was the key to this—that somewhere in her past—somewhere in your past—she came across this guy—how much worse would it be if you couldn’t remember it?”

He rubbed his chest. “I didn’t think about that.”

“I just—I thought Taggert would ask to talk to Elizabeth. That he’d interview people himself. It was his idea for you to do it.”

“It makes sense,” he murmured. “I already have relationships with the people Elizabeth knew. I was there. He doesn’t know.” He looked at her, standing miserably in front of him. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“No, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to. I mean…” She sighed, sat next to him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I should have told you before Taggert got involved. It won’t happen again.”

“It might,” Lucky pointed out. “I _am_ just a patrol officer. You are the ADA assigned to my division. The next case won’t be as personal—I hope not anyway. But there are always going to be things you and my commanding officer know that I don’t.” He managed a smile. “I just have to get over myself and remember how—” His smile deepened into a smirk. “How lucky I am to have such an impressive woman in my life.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and slugged him lightly in the shoulder. “Yeah, okay.” She leaned in to brush her lips against his. “We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” He deepened the kiss, losing himself in her for another moment before wincing. “But I have to finish getting dressed and start dinner. My aunt agreed to close the diner for me. Emily is coming by to help, and then Elizabeth is coming early with brownies for dessert.”

“Sounds like a good night—”

He grabbed her arm before she could leave. “Hey. Next time, we’ll all get together. This is just—”

“I know. I’ll look forward to it.” She kissed him again. “Have a good time with your friends.” Kelsey danced her fingertips down his bare chest. “But come by my place after you’re done.”

“Promise.”

**Harborview Towers: Hallway**

Jason braced himself as he stepped out of his penthouse and walked towards Sonny’s place. Max’s stance at the head of the elevators indicated his partner was home, which meant it was time to stop putting this off and confront Sonny about the threats he’d leveled at the district attorney.

The fact that Sonny’s anger had reached levels where he was threatening public officials was bad and Jason really didn’t know how to deal with that. It was an unspoken rule, but it was a strong one in nearly every organization in their syndicate: going after officials didn’t do shit. It brought more attention, it never stopped the cases, and it was nothing more than suicide.

And Jason couldn’t bank on hoping that none of their guys wouldn’t eventually decide to do what the boss said. Not every guy was loyal to Jason, and there was always one asshole who wanted to move up the ladder.

With Elizabeth’s case reopened and her pregnancy, with Carly nearing the end of her own pregnancy—there was no way Jason was going to let Sonny get away with creating more trouble for them.

Sonny was sitting on the sofa in front of the dark fireplace, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand. He didn’t look over at Jason’s entrance, merely took another sip. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“You mean you want to tell me how wrong I am again,” Sonny muttered. He sat up, set the tumbler on the coffee table with a _clunk_. “You talk to Carly?”

Jason exhaled slowly, sat in the armchair next to the sofa. “Do you think for one minute that I don’t want to be the one that puts a bullet between Ric’s eyes?” he asked.

Sonny frowned. “Look—”

“He went after Elizabeth when she was at her lowest. She’d lost her grandmother, most of her friends were out of town, and I—I wasn’t around. But that wasn’t enough for him. He drugged her repeatedly for six months. He drugged her with sedatives so she’d be more compliant, so she’d sleep with him. He drugged her with birth control so she would want the baby he was stealing for her. He nearly killed her. He kidnapped my best friend, locked her in a small room, and threatened to kill her and take her baby on a daily basis for a week.”

Sonny closed his eyes. Said nothing.

“If I had lost that court case, Sonny—if he’d been in charge of her care one second longer—I would have taken him out then. I don’t care if I would have gotten caught. If it would have put us in danger—Ric was _never_ getting the chance to go after the people I cared about again.”

“Then how the hell can you fight me on this?” Sonny demanded, lunging to his feet. He gestured wildly with one arm. “I want him dead. I want him _gone_.”

“Because it didn’t happen to _me_,” Jason said. Sonny scowled, but Jason pressed on. “It didn’t happen to _you_. We didn’t get kidnapped. We didn’t overdose from drugs fed to us in our water and food. Sonny, the day Elizabeth learned the drugging had been going on for months, she also learned there was a chance the drugs had damaged the baby she’d lost. She has nightmares. Still. She has to sleep with an oxygen tank next to her. There is never a single minute of her life when she doesn’t have to deal with what he did to her.”

Sonny looked away, his face pale. “I know that, Jason—”

“I couldn’t stop it. We didn’t stop Ric before he had the chance to damage Carly more than he did that night in February. We never knew what he was doing to Elizabeth until the kidnapping. We failed to protect them. And they’re not blaming us. All _they_ want is the chance to put him away. To testify against him.”

Jason shook his head. “I know it was bad for you. I know you fell apart, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier, but Sonny—I couldn’t do it all. I couldn’t keep the business going, look for Carly, and protect Elizabeth at the same time. I know it scared you to see Lily.”

“Do you think I like knowing how useless I was to everyone?” Sonny muttered. He crossed over to the minibar, poured himself another glass of bourbon, ignoring the one left on the table. “Nikolas fucking Cassadine did more than I did.”

“He did more than _I_ did. Sure, we used those cameras, but at the end of the day — the real estate agent was all we needed. And I didn’t think of it. No one else thought of it. Do you think that makes me feel great, Sonny? Elizabeth went back to him day after day, pretending to be his wife—he attacked her, Sonny, because I wasn’t smart enough to think about the damn house.”

“It’s not that I need to be the hero,” Sonny said slowly after a long moment. “But it was _my_ fault. My fault my mother died. She took a beating meant for me, and she never would have been there if it hadn’t been for me. I used to blame Mike for not staying—for my mother needing to stay with Deke. But it was my fault—” He shook his head. “It’s all my fault. He came to town because of me. I _need_ to be the one to end it.”

“Sonny—I’m asking you as a friend—as a brother—don’t make this one more thing I have to worry about,” Jason said. “Elizabeth is pregnant, and it’s high-risk because of Ric. Carly is pregnant and upset. And there’s more—the rape case—the Baker letter? It was real. It’s the _same _guy, Sonny. And it wasn’t just Elizabeth and Brooke Lynn Ashton. There are seven women.”

Sonny stared at him, shook his head. “What? What you are talking about?”

Jason told him about the visit from Ned and Taggert, about Elizabeth getting involved with the new case and the cover-up. “This guy is still out there, Sonny. And she’s going to give a press statement that goes after the police, the mayor, and—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can give her all the guards and security I want, but that doesn’t mean I can keep her safe.”

“The same man,” Sonny repeated softly. He frowned. “I—I meant to keep up on the case. My source at the PCPD.”

He set the still full tumbler back on the bar. “I forgot. I forgot to ask.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Sonny—”

“I’ve—” Sonny looked around the penthouse, as if noticing it for the first time. “I’ve been so angry. When Carly left, when she took Michael, I just—I let it happen. I thought—good. One less person to tell me I’m wrong all the time—but—” He focused on Jason. “I forgot about that letter from Baker. I forgot how bad you said Elizabeth handled you going to see him. But she knows what he said now. Is she okay?”

“I think so,” Jason admitted. “She—it was bad when Taggert came over, but I guess I didn’t give her enough credit. She said she’d had this fear in the back of her mind ever since Brooke was attacked.”

“Brooke—” Sonny pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, digging in. “Christ, I never even talked to Lois. I never checked in with her.”

“Sonny—”

“Her daughter—and you said the PCPD screwed up Elizabeth’s original investigation? Does Lois know that?”

“I don’t know if Ned warned her yet. Maybe. She will after Friday. I imagine the national press might pick it up because of the Quartermaines.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Sonny—”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just—” Sonny let out a harsh chuckle. “Maybe Bobbie is right. Maybe I do need to see a shrink.” He looked at Jason. “About Ric—”

“The trial date is set for November,” Jason told him. “Let’s just—let it happen. We can talk about all of it again after that. Maybe Elizabeth and Carly will change their minds. Maybe you’ll feel better about their decision.”

“I guess.” Sonny looked away, towards the window. “I’ve always been selfish, Jason. But I used to take the time to at least think about other people. Lois was one of my oldest friends. I’ve known Elizabeth for years. And Carly—Christ, what she’s been through because of Ric—I threw them all away because of what I wanted. What I thought was best.”

He grimaced, picked up his bourbon. “Doesn’t make me much better than Floyd. And doesn’t _that_ make me feel like shit?”

**Kelly** **’s: Dining Room**

Like they had on that fateful April night more than four years ago, Lucky arranged to close Kelly’s early so that he and Emily could cook dinner. Elizabeth stopped by about twenty minutes before they were going to start, a tray of brownies ready for the oven.

The four of them sat at the same table in the center of the restaurant and got caught up. Not on the big things—everyone knew about the case, the trial—Elizabeth wanted to talk about something happy. So, they talked about Laura Spencer—their memories of her, the joy in her homecoming. Lucky and Nikolas reminisced about how much they’d hated one another when Nikolas had moved to Port Charles.

“I mean, I hated him so much,” Lucky said, with a roll of his eyes, “that I questioned what was _wrong_ with me that night at the club when you got shot and I was happy you were still alive.”

“The Cassadine hatred gets bred in early,” Nikolas said with a serious nod. “We had the Spencers on dart boards back in Greece.”

“You see, he says that like it’s a joke,” Emily said, pointing a French fry in his direction, “but I kind of think he might be serious.”

Nikolas smirked but didn’t say one way or another. “It became clear that if I wanted to be friends with Emily and Elizabeth, I was gonna have to suck it up and stop treating you like the plague,” he told Lucky.

“Well, once I realized my dad wasn’t infallible, I started to question why the hell we were treating you like trash anyway,” his brother offered with a shrug. “And I got tired of making my mother cry.”

“So, any luck on the job front?” Emily asked Elizabeth as the brothers started to clear away their dinner. Lucky set Elizabeth’s finished stack of brownies on the table. “Or have you decided to take a break from all of that until the baby gets here?”

“Well, Jason and I haven’t really talked about it,” Elizabeth admitted. “Obviously, if I decided not to work, it’s not like he’d be all that irritated. I’m also not qualified to do a whole lot. I can’t waitress—way too much stress on my body which I’m not allowed right now.”

She put a brownie on her plate and started to split it into smaller pieces. “But Gail suggested volunteering to lead a survivor’s group, and after Taggert came over last week, I agreed. Today was my first meeting.”

“You okay with it?” Nikolas asked, touching her hand.

“I wasn’t sure if it was something I really wanted to do—you know, steep myself in what happened—but you know, as hard as it was listening to the women who came today—” Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt like I was doing something that was useful. Helpful, even. I used to volunteer taking phone calls at the rape hotline downtown, so this was similar.”

She popped a piece of brownie in her mouth, then swallowed. “Now is as good as any to tell you that on Friday, I’m going to be at Ned’s press conference. I’ll be going public about what happened with my case and the others.” She looked at Lucky. “I hope it won’t cause any issues at work. I mean, for you.”

“I think the people I work with the most will be glad,” Lucky admitted. “It’s all Cruz and I could do to keep Dante from quitting, Kelsey was disgusted when we started to figure things out, and Taggert—” He saw Elizabeth scowl. “What? I thought Taggert was okay—”

“There was something I didn’t think of until Edward came over yesterday,” she told him. “They didn’t call Floyd or Mac until a week after Baker was arrested. So why wasn’t my case already at the lab?”

Lucky sat back in his chair, blinked. “I—I don’t know.”

“They never started the investigation,” Emily murmured. “Which made it easier when Floyd pressured them to drop it.”

“Why investigate and spend the time when Baker was already on the hook for twenty-five to life?” Nikolas pointed out. “Seems like something the PCPD would tell themselves.”

Lucky grimaced. “I—I really didn’t think about it. I was so angry when I found the case had been marked solved—when I saw the kit hadn’t been processed—” He sighed. “But yeah. I guess that makes sense. I hate my job.” He shoved his plate away. “You should know the investigation has opened up a new track, a theory of how he picks his—” His mouth twisted in disgust. “How and when he picks the women.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “And it’s something you think _I_ need to know?”

“They put me in charge of it,” Lucky admitted. “And it’s not something I could hide from you even if I wanted to. The thing is, Elizabeth, your statement has a lot in common with the others, but the parts where it deviates—we think it can tell us something about our perp.”

“Okay.” Emily took Elizabeth’s hand in hers, tightened it. “Okay. Like what?” she asked her friend. “What happened to Liz that didn’t to the others?”

“The hair thing,” Lucky said. “You said he smelled your hair—how did he react afterwards?”

“Lucky,” Nikolas muttered. “Really?”

“He wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Elizabeth said, her eyes on her ex-fiancé, her face pale. Without even thinking about it, Emily flipped Elizabeth’s hand in hers, pressed two fingers to her pulse. “He didn’t smell my hair so much as—he buried his face in it. That’s when he whispered to me. He was next to my ear. He stroked it, I think. And I was crying. I think—” She closed her eyes. Forced herself back to that moment.

Because whatever it took, they had to find this guy.

“I was crying, asking him to stop. He hadn’t—not yet. But he kept his face—” Her stomach rolled as bile rose in her throat. Oh, God. How had she forgotten any of this? It seemed so goddamn clear to her now. “He kept his face in my hair the whole time. I was crying, but I could hear him breathing in my ear.”

“What happened to the others?” Emily asked softly. “Are you allowed to tell her, Lucky?”

“He smelled their hair, said it wasn’t right, brutally raped them until they were torn inside, then beat them unconscious,” Lucky said flatly. Emily gasped, releasing Elizabeth’s hand and putting her fist at her mouth.

“Lucky—” Nikolas started, then stopped. “Wait, he…beat them _all_?”

“All of them?” Elizabeth asked faintly. “Not just Brooke—”

“The reason we have so many victims who reported is that he beat them all unconscious. They were all found in the park.” Lucky shifted. “That’s part of the reason we think that there was something about your attack that was different. Not that what happened to you wasn’t violent—”

“But I walked away. And I—I don’t think he was going to hit me. Not like that.” Elizabeth clenched her fists. “So, I _was_ different.”

“You’re the earliest known victim, Elizabeth. But we think it’s more than that. We think it’s—we think he was looking for you that night. Not just any woman. But _you_. Or maybe he’d been following you—”

“Waiting for an opportunity.” Elizabeth looked at Nikolas and Emily, both as horrified as she was. “You think he knew me. That I knew him—”

“You were working at Kelly’s,” Nikolas reminded her. “Maybe you didn’t _know _him. Maybe he was a customer.”

“And the others were picked because, what, they were at the fountains and they looked like me?” Elizabeth asked. “Please tell me—”

“You said you had a theory about _when_ the attacks happened,” Emily said slowly.

“It’s not a great one, but the thing is—all of the known attacks happened around the time you would have been in the newspapers. The garage fire, the Christmas party where you got into a fight with Jason,” he said to Nikolas. “Your miscarriage and what happened with Ric—this year, on February 14, another woman was attacked in the park. That might have been because of the anniversary or Audrey’s death—”

“Or both,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked at Lucky, her throat thick. “Taggert said there was a gap between the groups of women. Three, then four. And the first new one was February 14.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t—I don’t need to be protected. If he was someone I saw—I need to know that. I _need_ to be able to help.”

“But wouldn’t you have gone through all of this back then?” Emily asked Elizabeth. “Didn’t Garcia or Taggert ask these questions back then?”

“They did. And honestly, Lucky, I don’t know. I mean…after my attack, you know better than anyone I suspected _everyone_. And I had regulars at Kelly’s.” She bit her lips. “Ruby’s gone now, but maybe Bobbie knows if she kept track of that stuff. Maybe there’s somewhere she wrote that stuff down. That’d be the best bet. I mean, outside of you guys, your families, and school, I spent most of my time here before the attack.”

“I’ll ask my aunt. That’s a good idea—I don’t know if we kept records, but Kelly’s has the rooms. Tax records would tell us who rented them out. It’s something to start with. Do you remember any security guards or—” he hesitated. “Cops?”

“Cops?” Emily repeated.

“More likely to be a security guard,” Lucky said quickly. “It’s—because of the handcuffs, I mean. Remember all the security guards patrolling the movie theaters and the street around it?”

“I guess.” Elizabeth bit her lip, tried to remember that. “No one sticks out. I mean, everyone came into Kelly’s, Lucky. Taggert, Garcia, Mac. Capelli. And a bunch whose name I never knew. We’re on the waterfront, and Sonny sometimes had private security guards outside of the regular guards. For the warehouses. Maybe I can ask Jason if there’s a list of companies.”

“That’d be helpful.” Lucky shook his head. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to do this tonight—”

“Hey.” Elizabeth reached across the table, took his hand in hers. “Don’t ever apologize to me for trying to get me justice. You always listened when no one else could. Or would. I’m glad you’re on this, Lucky. I want you to fight for Brooke, for the others, the way you _always_ fought for me. They deserve someone like you on their side.”

“Nikolas and I will try to remember if we came across anyone,” Emily told Lucky. “ELQ hired security companies and I’m sure Stefan did back then, right?”

“Right. We’ve all had waterfront interests,” Nikolas said. “I think Uncle often outsourced security. I’ll get you those records.”

“Thanks. About Friday—” Lucky looked at Elizabeth. “I’d like to be there. Because I want to show support, but—”

“I’ll be putting myself in the papers,” Elizabeth said softly. “And you’ll want to see who shows up. Ned is going to announce my name to the media he invited tomorrow. If you’re right, and it’s about the papers—”

“Shit, maybe he works for the tabloids or something.” Lucky dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s something else to think about.”

“Next time we get together,” Emily said as they started to clean up their desserts, “we’re only talking about unicorns and kittens.”


	26. Chapter Forty-Five

_You never asked for trouble_  
_But you've got fire that burns so bright _  
_You turn and face the struggle_  
_When all the others turn and hide_  
_You hold your head above the waves_  
_Above the war they try to wage_  
_You are stronger than their hate_  
\- In Your Shoes, Sarah McLachlan

* * *

_Friday, September 19, 2003_

**Port Charles Hotel: Office**

Elizabeth peered through the crack in the door that led from the back offices into the conference room set up to deliver a press conference. A podium had been set up at the front of the room with rows of chairs arranged facing it. Those chairs were filled with members of the Port Charles media, print and screen and even, she’d been told, an Internet blog.

Her friends and family were already sitting out there in the back row—Jason, Bobbie, Monica, Emily, Nikolas and Lucky filled one of the rows by themselves. She caught Jason’s eye, offered a him a smile meant to reassure him.

He hadn’t tried to stop her or talk her out of doing this, but Elizabeth knew putting herself out there like this made her a target in all sorts of ways. The announcement that she’d be giving a statement had hit the media the day before, and she and Jason had had to unplug their main line to stop it from ringing.

“We can stop this any time,” Ned said as Elizabeth closed the door and took a deep breath. “I can go out there, make excuses.” His eyes met hers, a concerned warm brown. “You _don__’t_ need to do this.”

She bit her lip, looked at Edward who was also planning to give a statement as to his involvement, then back to Ned. “No, maybe I don’t need to do this. But I _want_ to. For Brooke. She can’t fight for herself anymore. It’s up to us.”

Ned touched her shoulder. “Okay.” He looked over at Olivia, talking last minute arrangements with Jax and Alexis. “All right, we’re ready.”

“Okay. I’ll go with you to check the sound one more time,” Alexis told Olivia as the two women opened the door and went into the conference room. When Alexis knocked to let them know everything was set up correctly, Ned opened the door for Elizabeth.

She went to one side of the podium and stood next to Edward, who put a hand on her shoulder. Ned stepped up to the microphone.

“Thank you for coming,” he began, as he set his prepared remarks on the podium. “I launched my campaign for mayor last month after the death of my daughter because I wanted women like her to be better protected by our police department and our justice system.”

He paused, his breath catching slightly as he looked down at his notes. After a moment, he looked back up at the crowd.

“I am a grieving father, angry at the world. When I learned just how devastating the failures of this city had been, I wanted to burn it to the ground. But I am _just_ a grieving father. A bystander to all the women that Garrett Floyd ignored in his selfish pursuit of power.”

He paused again, looked at Elizabeth, who nodded. He looked back at the press. “So today, I think you should hear from one of those women.”

He stepped back as Elizabeth started forward, but Ned put his hand over the mike and whispered to her, “We can still stop this.”

“I can do this,” she reassured him. Ned removed his hand and went to stand next to his grandfather. Elizabeth stepped up to the microphone, Olivia moving in to adjust it slightly for her shorter stature.

“Good morning,” she said, flinching at the echoing sound of her own voice. She found Jason in the audience, focused on him.

“My name is Elizabeth Webber, but you already know that thanks to the tabloids and the newspapers that covered the kidnapping of Carly Corinthos and the physical assault I suffered at the hands of Ric Lansing due to the police department’s reckless disregard for my health and safety.” She paused. “I am not here to talk about that case today.”

The room started to buzz with whispers. Elizabeth knew they’d expected her to rail at the PCPD over her assault.

“On February 14, 1998, at the age of sixteen, I took a walk in the Port Charles park after dark.”

And now the room was eerily silent as she continued. “I was a silly girl who had told a lie about having a date to a dance, then was too embarrassed to admit the truth. So, I walked in the park, sat on a bench, and waited for time to pass.”

She found Lucky’s eyes, still full of deep regret as they both thought of the night that had changed their lives. “A man grabbed me from behind, threw me behind the bushes, and raped me.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I didn’t go to the police. I couldn’t even tell my grandmother. But a friend found me in the park and took me home. His family gave me strength and support to get through the night. I didn’t want anyone to know. I couldn’t bear for anyone to look at me and _know_.

“I stayed in my room for days. Every man became the man who raped me. Even men I had felt safe to be around before that night—they terrified me.”

She paused to look around the room. It seemed less scary now, easier to keep talking. She looked down at her notes and kept going. “I went to the hospital a few days later and did a rape kit. They took pictures of my bruises and I gave them the dress I had been wearing. I eventually went to the police and for a long time, I felt grateful to Detectives Taggert and Garcia who handled my case. They were kind, but not hopeful. At the time I didn’t remember a lot of the details of my attack, couldn’t give a description, and I was told my rape kit could not be processed without a suspect.”

She gripped the edges of the podium as she continued to speak. “But that fall, we had a suspect. Tom Baker, who blackmailed Emily Quartermaine and held the both of us hostage in his photography studio. He said something that my attacker had, and I accused him of raping me. I was terrified, frozen, and he went along with my charge. He was arrested, and I thought—finally—_finally_, they’ll be able to investigate.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath as her breath caught. “But a month later, I was told that he couldn’t be prosecuted for my attack. That there wasn’t enough evidence. I was told that my rape kit had come back negative for any DNA and he was denying his confession.” She smiled bitterly. “I never doubted Detective Taggert’s word. He said my kit had been run, and now my case would be ruled inactive. Put into cold storage.”

She saw that Scott Baldwin had slid into an empty seat next to Bobbie and he gently nodded when they made eye contact. So, he had been Ned’s source. She’d wondered. “I thought the man responsible was in jail for what had happened to Emily Quartermaine and would be there for a long time. Not as long as we’d hoped, but he was gone. I put my life back together, I moved on. I put it behind me. And then this summer, the _Herald _told us a serial rapist was stalking the park.”

Her hands fisted at the podium.

“I didn’t…I didn’t _let_ myself believe it was the same man. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t call, I didn’t ask. Even when I was asked by the family of the last young woman to speak to her about my own experience, I never once let myself believe we had been victimized by the same man. Because I assumed that the PCPD had taken care of me. Even after they had planted a story that put my life in danger, I still thought I could trust them.”

She sucked back a sob that tried to bubble up in her throat. “But I was wrong. The PCPD _never_ ran my rape kit. If they had, if they had processed even one of the kits in cold storage, they would have known that the man stalking the park this year was not just my attacker, but that I was the first of at least seven women, beginning in February 1998 and continuing until this past July. All seven of us, including Brooke Lynn Ashton—we were all raped by the same man. A man that the police department continued to let wreak havoc because of budget woes and blind ambition.”

She looked at Lucky, who nodded, reminding her it was okay to tell them everything the PCPD had done. “For a week after Tom Baker was arrested on charges of kidnapping, stalking, and extortion, nothing happened in my rape case. He was never questioned, and my dress sat in evidence, untouched. Because Baker was charged with crimes that would put him away for twenty-five years to life, my case was deemed to be a waste of time and money for the department. A week after his arrest, Garrett Floyd and Mac Scorpio got the political cover they needed to ignore my case.”

Elizabeth glanced back at Edward and Ned who were both ashen, knowing what would come next. “Concerned for their family member, Ned Ashton and Edward Quartermaine called Mayor Floyd to make sure that they had everything they needed to put Baker away. And Floyd took that as an invitation to ignore anything that might derail or delay the trial. Including my case. When I disrupted the trial, accusing Baker of rape, Edward called Floyd again. And this time, Floyd and Scorpio made it official. They generated a false lab report stating my rape kit had returned negative results. Then my case was marked as solved, so it would no longer show up as an open case.”

The room exploded as that news sunk in — that the PCPD had unwittingly delayed the capture of a serial rapist, falsified official evidence, and had engaged in political corruption. She waited for the din to quiet down.

“If my case had been handled properly according to procedure, we would have known five years ago that Tom Baker did not rape me. I would not have had justice, but the women who came after me — the attacks in 1999 and 2000, the four in 2003 — they might have been avoided. If the rape kits for all rape cases were processed at the time of report, then we would have known four years ago that one man was raping women in the park. The DNA would have been on file in state and federal databases. But that did not happen. Because Mac Scorpio, Garrett Floyd, and the PCPD threw me away. I didn’t matter. Their bottom lines, their jobs, their needs mattered more than me and the public they’d sworn to protect.”

She looked at the back of the room where Taggert was standing, his eyes cast down. She didn’t know how long he’d been there, but she wasn’t in the mood to see him.

“They _knew_ a serial rapist was haunting the park by the end of June, but they refused to tell the public. The commissioner warned his own daughters not to walk in the park, but no one warned Brooke Lynn Ashton. If we had known we were being hunted, do you think anyone would have walked there? Brooke Lynn would be alive today if the mayor and the commissioner hadn’t decided that women like us were expendable.”

Rage was now coursing through her veins, her chest rising more rapidly. “I was sixteen when I was raped, little more than a child. I was terrified to tell anyone, sure that the world would blame me. Because my family wasn’t wealthy and couldn’t deliver an election, Garrett Floyd threw me away. He could do that because that’s what this world does. It decides that women are less, that we can be forgotten, put away, disposed of because a man’s reputation, a man’s election somehow matters more than my right to walk in the park without fear, to have justice for the terror I was put through.”

She paused, the room silent. “Garrett Floyd wanted to be your mayor more than he wanted to serve the people. Mac Scorpio wanted to keep his job more than he wanted to protect the public. They don’t care about the people they’ve taken an oath to look after. I nearly died for their greed and ambition. Seven of us were ignored. One of us gone forever. I will fight for Brooke Lynn and for all the others that came after me because I will not let Garrett Floyd throw away one more woman. He got away with it once because I was nothing more than a little girl who didn’t know how to stand up and shout.”

She looked straight ahead at the WKPC television cameras she knew was carrying the conference live. “Little girls don’t stay little forever. They grow up and return to destroy your world. I am not going to be thrown away, and I will not stay silent. I am going to vote for Ned Ashton in a few weeks, and I hope that everyone listening will as well. This city deserves a change. I’m sorry I can’t take any questions.”

She stepped back from the podium as Ned put an arm around her shoulder, steadying her. “Are you okay? Do you need Bobbie or your doctor?” he asked as Edward stepped up to deliver his short and furious condemnation of Floyd’s actions.

“No.” She took a deep breath, was relieved when it came easily. She pressed her own fingers to her pulse and found it only a bit more rapid than usual. “I just want to go home. Do I have to stay—”

“Olivia—” Ned started to ask but Olivia was already taking Elizabeth by the elbow and steering her into the back room.

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Taggert had arrived at the hotel just after the press conference had begun, hoping to slip in and out without being noticed. But once Elizabeth’s incendiary statement had been delivered, he found himself all but chased down the street back to the PCPD, reporters and cameras at his heels.

In the squad room, he found a group of sullen officers gathered around the television set. “She dates a fucking criminal and _we__’re_ the bad guys,” Capelli muttered. Taggert shot him a dirty look.

“You’re wanted in the conference room,” Beaudry said with a grunt. “Floyd came in five minutes ago, grabbed Esposito by the scruff of his neck and hauled him in already. With your rookies.”

“Fantastic,” Taggert said with a roll of his eyes. He went down the hall to find the mayor in a fury as he berated the officers in front him.

“I want to know who the hell is leaking the confidential investigations in this office!” Floyd demanded, jabbing his fingers at the trio standing sullenly in a line. “You!” He barked at Dante who stared back at him with open hostility. “You grew up with the last one, didn’t you? Angry at the PCPD?”

“I don’t know,” Dante drawled, “probably not nearly as angry as you were when you leaked her name to the press, asshole.” His dark eyes were lit with fury. “The ‘last one’? You piece of shit—”

Floyd’s face was almost florid in his rage. “You—you’re _fired_—”

“Can’t fire him,” Taggert said calmly as he shut down the door. “And if you got a problem with the officers under my command, you take it up with me. Vinnie isn’t even on this case. I knew months ago something was wrong with the Webber case. I didn’t leak it, but I wish like hell I had.”

“You son of a bitch,” Floyd hissed. “_You_ have screwed up this case from the beginning—you and this Brooklyn asshole—”

Vinnie snorted. “Oh, _that_ he remembers about me,” the detective snarled, his accent thick. “But you don’t remember that I wasn’t even on the damn cases back then!”

“You were a patrol officer in this division!” Floyd gestured wildly. “Why didn’t you make the link?”

“Because even when we _did_ make the link,” Taggert said, stepping in front of his officers. “You refused to let us do anything about it—”

“I said you couldn’t announce it!” Floyd retorted. “Not that you couldn’t investigate it—”

“No public warning, no extra patrols for the park—” Cruz rolled his eyes. “Sounds like not being able to investigate to me,” he told Dante.

Taggert’s mouth twitched—he so badly wanted to smile at the level of disrespect the rookies were showing the line of command. He shouldn’t—but maybe it meant they couldn’t be corrupted or bribed. “We’re working the cases as hard we as we can. You got more damage control to worry about anyway.”

“That’s why I’m here—” Floyd stabbed a finger at Vinnie. “I’ve recommended to the ethics board that Esposito be suspended for thirty days, pending termination for his negligence and public disregard for safety.”

“Fuck that shit!” Vinnie roared. “You’ll hear from my union rep!” He stormed out of the room.

Floyd smirked at Taggert and the rookies. “Careful, officers, or you’ll be next.”

He sauntered out of the room.

“He doesn’t get it, does he?” Dante asked, shaking his head. “He’s a dead man walking. Elizabeth Webber flayed him alive and all that’s left is his rotting corpse.”

“That just makes him more dangerous,” Taggert muttered.

**Kelly** **’s: Dining Room**

Bobbie went behind the counter, murmured something to Penny who had been managing in her absence, then looked at Lucky who took a seat in front of her. “Well.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to work tomorrow.” Lucky rubbed the side of his face, exhausted already. “I got a voicemail from Cruz that Floyd went to the PCPD after the conference, accused Dante of being the leak, tried to fire him—and did manage to engineer Vinnie’s suspension. Which is bullshit because Vinnie’s a crappy cop, but this was a system clusterfuck, not just one person.”

“Yeah, well.” Bobbie sighed. “You said you had some questions about the case? I don’t know what I could offer you.”

Lucky explained that their theory about Elizabeth as the trigger victim and how they were trying to think of anyone who fit the profile and was part of her past. “It’s a huge pool of suspects, but Elizabeth thought maybe the regulars she had back then might be a place to start. She didn’t really remember any names or faces. Not after so much time, but we were wondering if Ruby would have kept something.”

“Well, we have the tax records for the rooms we rented going back to about, oh, ‘94, I think. I can check that.” Bobbie pursed her lips. “I have a few boxes of paperwork your aunt left behind that I really don’t know anything about. Ruby kept track of unpaid tabs — she might not have thrown them out once it was paid off. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to Kelly’s when she was here.” Bobbie’s smile was sad. “Didn’t really need to, you know?”

“Yeah, Ruby always made it look easy.”

“I might even have some of her journals. I could pull out what I have when I get home.” Bobbie shook her head as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “It just seems wrong that Elizabeth could have known the guy. Wouldn’t they have done this—” She stopped, shook her head. “We can’t assume anything. Not knowing what we know now.”

“To be honest, Aunt Bobbie, having looked at Elizabeth’s file — Garcia didn’t do anything with Elizabeth’s case. They didn’t look at the crime scene. Didn’t interview anyone in Elizabeth’s life. They seemed to assume it was a stranger rape and moved on. By the time Taggert got assigned it, it was pretty cold.” Lucky shook his head. “But that seems to the way the PCPD operated. Doing the bare minimum.”

“Well, I hope Ned winning in a few weeks will start changing things. I’ll go through Ruby’s things and see if I can’t give you something to help.”

“Thanks—” Lucky stopped, took out his buzzing cell phone. “Hey.”

“Hey. I saw the press conference,” Kelsey said. “The phones are ringing off the hook at the office—do you think Scott is the one that told Liz?”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “I knew she had a lot of the details from someone in a position to know. If the Quartermaines admitted making the call, then someone had to have tipped off Ned Ashton.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey sighed. “Yeah, she was already asking questions, so I’m glad she knows. You okay?”

“As okay as I can be. Will the DA’s office get out of this without a lot of heat?”

“We might be okay. Different DA, former ADA not working here anymore—” She paused. “Will you come by after I’m done work?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

Lucky hung up the phone to find his aunt smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Your voice—” Bobbie sighed, her eyes a bit brighter. “It changes when you talk to her. Did you know that?”

“No, but—” He shrugged. “I gotta get going. I have a shift at the club. Call me if you find anything in Aunt Ruby’s records.” He kissed her cheek, then left.

**Scorpio House: Living Room**

When Edward Quartermaine’s face faded from the screen, Felicia picked up the remote and silently switched off the television. On the other sofa, Georgie was crying, Maxie was sitting silently, staring straight ahead. Next to her, Mac was pale, his eyes looking down.

“Is _this_ what you were talking about when I came home in July?” she asked softly. “When you told me Floyd had pushed you on this case?”

“I—”

“Why?” Georgie said, with a sob. “_Why_ would she say those things? Tell them that Floyd made you do it, Dad!”

“How could he make him do anything?” Maxie looked at her stepfather. “He tells you to do something, you tell him to go to hell. It’s not hard. I say it to you all the time.”

“Girls—”

“Don’t start acting like we’re kids and can’t handle this,” Maxie said. She got to her feet and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m an adult. I was _there_ the night Brooke got attacked. I’ve watched Dillon tear himself apart. Kyle and Lucas drowned themselves in guilt. Georgie broke up with Dillon because she was defending you—”

“Because you didn’t have a choice,” Georgie said to him, but even her own conviction was fading. Her voice trembled. “He _made_ you do it.”

“You always have a choice,” Mac said after a long moment. “I didn’t have a good choice. Elizabeth is right. We didn’t immediately investigate after he was arrested. I should have. But I was concentrating on the Quartermaine part of the case, and I didn’t—I wasn’t aware of the rape charges until Floyd called me. But I should have known it.”

“Why wouldn’t Taggert have gone after him—” Felicia pressed her lips together. “Is she right? Did you weigh the odds? Twenty-five to life? Why waste time on a dubious rape charge when you could just sit back, do nothing, and get the same result?”

“I thought he was guilty,” Mac said, numbly. “At first it didn’t seem like a big deal. Until I realized we were lying to Elizabeth. Until Edward called and—I _had_ a choice, Georgie,” he told his youngest step-daughter painfully. “You _always_ have a choice,” he repeated.

“Then why?” Maxie demanded, her voice ending on a wail. “_Why_ did you do this? Why did you let him keep hurting women and why is Brooke dead because of it? Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to lose my job,” Mac said. And damned if that felt like a shitty excuse. “We had the Outback and it was already failing at that point—if I’d lost that income—”

“And it wasn’t like I was making a lot from my work as a private investigator,” Felicia said, with a slow exhale. “And you had the guy’s confession. So, you buried her case to keep your job and support us.”

Georgie sniffled and looked away from them. “I have to go call Dillon. I have to—I have to apologize.” She rushed away, her feet pounding on the stairs.

Maxie stayed for another minute. “You always have a choice,” she repeated. “And yeah, I guess that was a terrible choice. What about this summer, Dad? When you chose to warn me and Georgie, but didn’t make it sound so bad that we told anyone else? How do you think it makes me feel that your choice helped put Brooke in that park?”

“I will never be able to forgive myself—”

“Good. You shouldn’t.”

Without another word, Maxie stalked out the front door, slamming it shut behind her. Mac shook his head, looked to Felicia. “I—”

“You put the needs of your family above those of the people you were supposed to protect.” Felicia offered him a wistful smile. “You think you’re the only person in the world who has ever been selfish? Who’s ever sacrificed one person to save himself?”

“The girls—they’re in college. The Outback is long gone. We didn’t—I couldn’t—”

“The girls are _my_ responsibility,” Felicia told him. “And I’m grateful for the help you’ve given us. The stability you’ve given them. But please, don’t _ever_ use them as a reason not to do the right thing.” She shook her head. “I told myself that whatever was bothering you—I could deal with it. I wasn’t a good wife to you. I depended on you too much. I made my girls _your_ problem to fix. And that’s my fault. But I’m not sure—”

She met his eyes, sighed. “I don’t know, Mac. I just don’t understand how you could have done this. We knew Elizabeth Webber. Steve and Audrey were so good to me. She was at our wedding—she caught my bouquet. And six months later, you put her on a shelf like she was nothing. I get it—you thought the guy was guilty. And if you’d actually investigated the case, maybe you’d have been right. Maybe there wouldn’t have been evidence.”

“I—”

“And it’s hard to blame you for that choice now—because how could you have known that animal would go on to rape six more women? But _that__’s_ why you do the job right the first time. So, you can look back and tell yourself—I did everything I should have.” Felicia rubbed the back of her neck. “You haven’t resigned.”

“I offered a few times, but Floyd refused to take it. Now, I think he’ll either have to fire me or—if Ned wins, I want him to fire me. It won’t bring back his daughter, but if it gives him a moment of peace—” Mac sighed, looked away. “I owe him that. At the very least. I’m sorry, Felicia.”

“You’re a good man, Mac, who made a mistake.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll get through this.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Elizabeth was exhausted by the time they got home that afternoon. She dropped her purse on the desk, kicked her shoes off, and sat on the sofa with a huff. She closed her eyes and extended her arm, expecting Jason to check her pulse.

He didn’t put his fingers on her wrist but took her hand and pressed it to his chest as he sat next to her. She opened her eyes, looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not checking my vitals?”

“I will. But I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

She smiled, sat up. “I love you, too.”

“You terrify me,” he admitted. “With your fearlessness, your courage—you declared war on the PCPD, the mayor, and the man who did this to all of you. And you did it by reminding everyone who matters here. Not the election. Not the men who screwed up the case. But you. And Brooke Lynn. And the other women.”

“Someone had to,” Elizabeth murmured. “He’s still out there, Jason. And if Lucky is right, he’s still attacking women who look like _me_. Every time he rapes someone, he’s raping me again in his mind.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Part of me is a little…a lot…scared that standing up there—reminding him I exist—showing him that he didn’t destroy me—”

“He’ll want to come after you.” Jason nodded, his fingers sliding over her smooth skin of her inner arm. “Yeah, I thought about that, too.”

“But I couldn’t hide. I _can__’t_ hide. I won’t live my life in fear. Not ever again. I wouldn’t let him break me five years ago.” Elizabeth turned her hand so that she was the one clutching his hand, squeezing it. “I wouldn’t let Ric Lansing break me. I won’t let him be the thing I think about for eight months, worrying about what he did to me or if it’ll cost me my life or my child’s. And I won’t let my rapist drive me to fear either. _I_ run my life. Not them.”

He leaned forward, brushed his lips over hers. “I love you,” he murmured again.

“I love you, too.” She managed a smile for him as he drew back. “Now. Let’s check my vitals and talk about the security I’m sure you want to add.”


	27. Chapter Forty-Seven

_I know I let you down_  
_Again and again_  
_I know I never really treated you right_  
_I've paid the price_  
_I'm still paying for it every day_  
-I Don’t Know You Anymore, Savage Garden

* * *

_Monday, September 22, 2003_

**Warehouse: Jason** **’s Office**

Jason raised an eyebrow when the secretary he and Sonny shared announced that Lieutenant Taggert wanted to see him. With a sigh, he let the cop in. He wanted this case to be over so that Elizabeth would be safe—but also so he’d stop having to let Taggert through his damn door without a warrant. He wanted some things to go back to the way they used to be.

“Morgan.” Taggert hesitated when Jason simply remained seated behind his desk, paperwork in front of him. He took a seat. “Lucky Spencer told me he’d talked to Elizabeth about investigating her past. I figured she’s talked to you about it by now.”

“She has,” Jason said. “Why?”

“Because it occurs me that you knew her, too, back then. And I wasn’t sure if Spencer had talked to you. And there’s this other thing about Baker I wanted to run past you.” He took out his notepad. “The first time I was aware you knew Elizabeth outside of your sister was just before you left town. The fall of 1999.”

“We weren’t friends until that summer, in August,” Jason said, leaning back, considering. “I didn’t have a lot of interaction with her, but she came by with Lucky a lot. He washed cars for me, then worked for me at the garage, doing paperwork and running the website. I rented him the room.”

He frowned, trying to remember the first time he’d seen Elizabeth. “She was at Sonny and Brenda’s wedding. I guess as Lucky’s date. I remember seeing her as they left because she was someone I didn’t recognize. And then a few months later, when Nikolas got shot. She was there with her sister.”

“You’re good with faces. You don’t remember anyone hanging around her? Or your sister?” Taggert pressed, leaning forward.

“No. I really don’t. I went to Kelly’s, I’m sure she waited on me. But nothing sticks out.” Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was a long shot. Spencer’s looking into the records at Kelly’s. Anyway.” Taggert huffed. “I tried to go see Baker once, in August, but he stuck to his original story from ‘98. No idea what Elizabeth is talking about. He never touched her, blah, blah. But when she mentioned that he knew the color of her dress, I thought maybe he does know something.”

“I got that feeling, too,” Jason admitted. “But I—” He shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to know anything else, hadn’t wanted another secret to keep from Elizabeth. “So?”

“So, I’m going back, and I’m thinking combined with my threat to his parole…” Taggert gestured at him. “Maybe you being in the room might remind him what awaits on the outside.”

Jason stared at him. “You want me to go to the prison to intimidate him?” he finally managed. “Is that even _legal_?”

“I can bring a third party to the interrogation,” Taggert said. “It’ll take a day or two to set it up.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment before leaning forward. “There was a week between Baker’s arrest and Edward’s call. Why didn’t Elizabeth’s case get investigated during that time? Why wasn’t sending that kit to the lab the _first_ thing that happened the day after you arrested him?”

Taggert looked away, shook his head. “I didn’t think about that part of it when I realized what happened to her case. Because it’s just…it’s routine. We were waiting on the charges. How much time the DA was going to ask for the kidnapping and extortion. And yeah, it’s what Elizabeth said. He was facing more time for those crimes than we could have gotten him for on the rape. That case was supposed to be airtight.”

He grimaced. “Easy to see all the ways you could have done better. I just—I believed her. I _believed_ he confessed. And you know, I wanted it to be over. I wanted her to have peace. She kept coming in, wanting updates, trying to find ways to help—” Taggert shook his head. “I wanted it to go away for her, so I let it go.” He sighed. “Will you go with me or not?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll call when it’s set up.”

**Quartermaine Estate: Dillon** **’s Room**

Dillon scowled at his laptop screen, trying to concentrate on the paper he was writing for his modern film class, but nothing was going right.

He glanced at his phone, managed a smile when he saw that Lulu had sent him a text reminding him he’d promised not to sulk all day and take her to the movies that night. He hadn’t been dating her that day they’d all gone out as a group, but he was now.

And it was nice to have something to look forward to. He’d watched his brother’s press conference earlier that day and then had spent hours trying to get it out of his head.

There was a light knock on his slightly ajar door. He twisted to see Georgie standing at the threshold, her cheeks tear stained. She’d called him a few times, but he hadn’t picked up. Hadn’t want to hear it again.

“If you’re here to defend your stepfather—”

“I’m not,” Georgie said, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard. “I—he sat us down to watch the press conference. We—we all watched it. And then he said it was true. And I just—” She clasped her hands in front of him. “I just wanted to see you. To apologize.”

“I get it. You want to believe he was a good guy.” Dillon shrugged. “Now you know—”

“He’s not a bad man,” Georgie said defensively. “No, _don__’t_ give me that look. You don’t know him. He did something awful, Dillon. He did it because my mom didn’t make a lot of money, and their restaurant was failing. If he’d lost his job then—”

“And this summer, Georgie? Let me guess — college tuition, right?” Dillon shook his head. “You know, I know you see the good in people. But sometimes it blinds you to the bad. He was selfish and he played with other people’s lives. I’m glad he feels bad, but all his guilt won’t bring back Brooke.”

“_We__’re_ just as responsible,” she insisted, her voice climbing. “We ignored her, we didn’t treat her well, and she walked away from us. And then Maxie and I— we never said a word to any of you about what Mac told us. Once we thought she was in the park—” Her voice broke as tears slid down her cheek. “We should have said something. If we’d said something, you would have called the cops or maybe run or moved faster. But we didn’t. Because—”

“Because Mac just told you to be careful in the park or something dumb like that? Not — hey there’s a vicious rapist who beats women and rapes them until they’re broken and bloody and by the way, he likes brunettes—” Dillon cut off abruptly as Georgie cried harder.

“I don’t blame you,” he said after a long moment. “I don’t even blame Kyle or Lucas anymore. I don’t blame me. I blame the man who did it. I blame the people who knew that park wasn’t safe at night and did nothing to fix it. Where were the extra cops, Georgie? Why weren’t there officers patrolling those damn fountains?”

“I—” Georgie wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.”

“Your stepfather played games with my family—with the lives of every single woman in this town—and I don’t care how good he is or how much pressure he was under. He had a choice, Georgie. Forgive me if I’m not in any damn hurry to forgive him. Because his choice cost Brooke her life!”

“I’m going to go,” she said carefully, sucking in a deep breath. “I—I’m just sorry.”

She ran out of the room, and he didn’t even bother to go after her. Instead, he called Lucas to check on his cousin and make sure she got home safely.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Nikolas eyed the guard stationed on Elizabeth’s door as he entered the penthouse. “That’s new. Didn’t you used to share a door guard with Sonny?”

“It’s only during the daytime when Jason isn’t here,” Elizabeth said as she gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “Just a few added precautions.”

“I can’t be mad at that.” Nikolas squeezed her hand as they took a seat on the sofa. “I just wanted to see you in person after yesterday. You looked okay but—”

“I’m good. My vitals are in the normal range, and I have a checkup with Monica next week. She wants to do monthly visits in addition to my OB appointments. They’re really not taking any chances.” She set a hand on her abdomen. “And I’m not either. I wasn’t expecting this baby, but I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he or she is safe.”

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do, or Emily. You know we both just want the best for you.” He paused. “I made a donation to Ned’s campaign and put out an official statement from Cassadine Industries endorsing him.”

“Oh, that’s good. Most of the major businesses in town are affiliated with the Quartermaines, so I’m sure Ned appreciates an independent endorsement.” She tucked a leg underneath her body. “Is that all you came over to do? Check on me?”

“I—” Nikolas hesitated. “Have you heard from Ric since the protection hearing?”

“No.” Elizabeth blinked. “No, not even to annoy me about a deposition for the trial. And Scott hasn’t brought it up in a while. I guess we’re moving full steam ahead on that. It’s…weird, I guess how little I think about Ric. Apart from thinking about my health, he’s not in my head at all.” She smiled at that, looking at her hands, enjoying the way they looked without those awful engagement and wedding rings.

“I wanted you to know I put men on him,” Nikolas told her. “I’m sure Jason and Sonny have as well, but I just…” He pursed his lips. “After that day at your house—when I saw you dying in front of me—”

“Nikolas…” She touched his hand. “Hey—”

“It’s not even the first time you’ve died in front me,” he admitted, and she managed a hesitant laugh at that memory. “But I just remember looking at you, that monitor flatlining — and thinking — Oh, God, he’s killed her. I’m not sure I’ll be able to rest easy until he’s behind bars. And not even then, maybe,” he admitted.

“I appreciate that, but—”

“I just have someone watching him. I know he’s in Crimson Point. I know he hasn’t left the city since the protection hearing. I just—I didn’t know if Jason and Sonny give you reports—”

“Jason doesn’t talk about it much,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I assumed he’s got someone watching Ric. But thank you, it _does_ make me feel better that Ric is miles away. I can only hope the trial will be short. I don’t think Scott plans to call lot of witnesses. Me, Carly. Monica, for sure. Probably you. I don’t know if he’ll call Jason or Sonny. Taggert. Cruz, the cop who was with us that day.” She sighed. “I don’t know why he’s bothering with the trial. Even if they can’t prove the charges about what happened to me, Carly’s are a slam dunk.”

“That’s what we thought about Baker,” Nikolas reminded her quietly. “And there’s no reason that mistrial should have ended up with him serving a quarter of the time he was supposed to.” He shook his head. “You know, I used to wonder if we’d have been better off going to the cops with the blackmail, but now I know they just would have screwed it up.”

“Let’s talk about something else. How’s your mom? And grandmother? Laura still doing well?”

Talking about Laura Spencer and her triumphant homecoming was Nikolas’s favorite subject, so he happily moved on from Ric, the PCPD, and all of the tragedies they’d suffered.

**Warehouse: Sonny** **’s Office**

For the first time in weeks, Sonny looked up to find Jason entering his office. They hadn’t spoken much since Jason had come by the penthouse earlier that week and almost not at all at work.

His friendship, his partnership with Jason was changing and Sonny didn’t know what it was going to look like going forward. If they could go back. Or even if they should.

“Hey.” Sonny cleared his throat. “How’s it—” He broke off the awkward question. “What’s up?”

“I, uh…” Jason took a seat. “I wasn’t sure if you saw. Or heard. Taggert was just here.”

Sonny furrowed his brow. “What’s going on? Did you call a lawyer—”

“No, no…” Jason shook his head. “No, it’s not about—it’s about the case.” He told Sonny that Taggert wanted him to go to the prison to see Baker as intimidation.

“Oh. I saw the press conference.” Had been humbled, awed by the woman he’d seen on the screen. “I was going to stop by—but how is she?”

“Yeah. She’s…handling it. Gail Baldwin has been good for her, I guess.” Jason shifted. “I just…didn’t want you to think there was…a reason Taggert was here that I wasn’t—”

“We’re not so far gone, you and I, that I would think that,” Sonny said quietly. He met Jason’s eyes. “Things are…rough right now, but for you to go to the police against me? It wouldn’t enter my mind.”

“Okay—”

When Jason made a move to stand, Sonny held out a hand for him to stop. “I don’t want this distance between us when…I just don’t.”

“I don’t either,” Jason admitted.

Sonny got to his feet and looked out his window, turning his back on his friend. “I blame me for not handling it all better.”

“Last summer, Elizabeth was kidnapped, too,” Jason said. “She’s not my wife. We don’t have kids. But I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t see straight. I almost didn’t find her.”

“I remember.”

“So, maybe I should have thought about that. Sonny, Carly was gone. And I wasn’t even sure I was right,” Jason admitted. “I had to be right, because I didn’t have any other leads. Any other ideas. She had to be with Ric. If I was wrong…she might never have come home.”

“I put a lot of pressure on you,” Sonny murmured. “I’ve always done that. Always made you responsible for me, my black moods. My family. I sent you to Courtney when you had other things to worry about. Anyone could have looked out for her. I sent you. And it wasn’t right.”

“I could have said no.”

“Yeah, well…” Sonny turned back to him. “I like Elizabeth. And I’m glad she’s doing better, I really am. I’m sorry about this…that someone is out there preying on women. And if you have to work with Taggert to make that lying son of a bitch Tom Baker give you something to make this finally over, then that’s what you have to do.”

Sonny rubbed his jaw. “You can’t say anything during the interview because it’s being recorded. Any hint of actual intimidation makes it useless.”

“That’s what Taggert said, yeah.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t threaten him before you get there. We can pass on the message that if we find out Baker knows anything about Elizabeth he’s not telling you, he won’t even have to worry about after parole. He might not make it to sunrise one day.” He met Jason’s eyes. “I want him terrified when you show up with Taggert, so you don’t even have to work at it.”

“Yeah, I’ll call my guy at Pentonville. That’s a good idea.” Jason hesitated. “You look better,” he said finally.

“I’m feeling better. I saw Elizabeth on that screen—and I remember that night. She was standing there, drugged out of her damn mind, and _demanding_ that we let her stay. That we let her help. Taking it all on her own shoulders.” He shook his head. “She risked her life for Carly. Because she blamed herself. The least—and I mean the very least—I can do is help her get justice.”

**Kelsey** **’s Apartment: Living Room**

Lucky scowled down at his notes as Kelsey switched the channel from the news to a movie he didn’t recognize. “There’s something I’m not remembering.”

She shifted on the sofa, turning to face him and folding her legs underneath her body. “What do you mean?”

“My Aunt Ruby’s records from before she died. Elizabeth mentioned there might be records of people who kept tabs, and Aunt Bobbie said Ruby never threw anything out.” He grimaced. “I should stop by there tomorrow. See if it jogs my memories—”

“You live there,” Kelsey reminded him. “And you were just there a few nights ago—”

“I know.” He threw the pencil and notepad on the coffee table and leaned back against the sofa. “But there’s something at the edge of my memories. I remember something—”

“You have to stop pressuring yourself.” She touched his knee, leaned in. “Go to Kelly’s tomorrow. Get the records from your aunt. You’ll probably remember it when you see the list of tenants. But right now, Lucky, you’re just driving yourself insane.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess.” He curled an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. “But Taggert and Jason are going to see Baker on Wednesday. If they get a name—”

“We’ll need more than a name to build a case. So, if we get a name, it might also jump start whatever you’re trying to remember.” Kelsey sighed, closed her eyes. “Think about it. By the end of this week—this monster might finally have a name. We might be able to get everyone some justice.”

“Listening to Elizabeth today, thinking about what all of these women have been through—” Lucky sighed. “I’m not sure justice is even possible. But we could make it over. And that’s not nothing.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Bedroom**

Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, a book of baby names in her hands, when he came home from work that night. A shipment had arrived three hours later than they’d expected, so it was nearly eleven by the time Jason could leave the warehouse.

She smiled up at him when he came in, setting the book aside. “Hey. You’re not as late as you thought you’d be. It’s not even midnight yet.”

“Yeah, we got a break.” Jason stripped down to his briefs, climbed into bed next to her and kissed her. “What are you reading?” He reached for the book. “Already?”

“Well, we have to be prepared,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks flushed slightly. “Emily came by after Nikolas and dropped it off as a baby gift. The first of many—which I’m taking as a threat. Your sister always goes over the top.”

He took the book from her and flipped through it. “So, what do you like?”

“I don’t know. I know Emily said you picked Michael because of Sonny. And didn’t Carly say they were naming this baby after you?” Elizabeth smirked as Jason’s cheeks reddened slightly. “I thought it was a sweet name. Morgan Stone. Did you want…to name the baby for someone? Emily?”

Jason shrugged. “We can if you want.” When she rolled her eyes, he continued, “It’s a name, Elizabeth. I woke up in the hospital, they told me I was Jason Quartermaine. I didn’t like it, so I changed it. No big deal.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was a bigger deal than that. If names don’t matter, why did you change it?” she challenged.

He hesitated, trying to remember those days after the accident. He’d been angry all the time—at these strangers who kept telling him who he was supposed to be and always looking so damn disappointed when that version of him didn’t show up. “I thought if I didn’t have their name—if I didn’t use the name they kept telling me was mine—they’d stop wanting me to be him.” Jason shook his head. “It seems stupid now. And I don’t know—I couldn’t see it as them grieving. Their son died. He ran after AJ, promising them he’d take care of it. And he never came home.” He looked at her. “And to make it worse, I was wearing his face.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?” Elizabeth asked softly.

“It was always easier with Grandmother and Emily. And Ned—until I found out about AJ driving—he and I got along fine. But it took longer with Monica. And I’m not sure I’ll ever get there with Edward and Alan.” Jason was quiet for a long moment. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” He cleared his throat. “But I get what you mean. The name mattered. I picked Morgan because it was my middle name, and when I told Grandmother I was using it, she just looked so happy. I liked making her happy.”

“There’s no one like Lila.” Elizabeth picked up Jason’s arm so she could tuck herself underneath it. “I think I want our baby to have their own first name. Something that belongs completely to them, you know?”

“I like that idea.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead. “I had a strange visitor at work today.” When she frowned at him, he went on. “Taggert. He wants to go visit Baker at Pentonville and thinks I might be good for intimidation.”

“Why does he want to see Baker?” Elizabeth scowled. “I thought he was cleared—”

“He is—of the actual attack. But I got the feeling that day I saw him—and Taggert said he got the same one—Baker knows more than he’s saying. He knew the color of your dress, and you said he had no trouble going along with what you’d said. Like he already knew you and what happened.”

“I guess.” She sighed. “And…you’re going?”

“It’s not my first choice to spend an hour driving to Pentonville with Taggert, but—” He paused. “I asked him why your kit wasn’t sent that first week. If you were right, and they were just going to let your case go anyway, before the call.”

“What’d he say?”

“That he thought it would be easier for you if Baker went away for the twenty-five. It was more time than he’d get than your charges. And maybe he didn’t want to put you through testifying after the kidnapping.” Jason shook his head. “But if Lucky was right, if Ned told the story right—Mac lied to Taggert, too.”

“Yeah, I guess I can understand that. And Taggert’s the one that reopened my case in the first place. I don’t think he would have been on board for lying to me.” She grimaced. “Are you going to go?”

“Yeah. Because he came to me and asked for my help. And he’s always been good to you. Whatever I can do to make this over faster. If Baker knows who did this—”

“Then it could be over by the end of the week,” she murmured. She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “Good. I want to get on with the rest of my life. The rest of our life.”


	28. Chapter Forty-Seven

_That's the price you pay_  
_Leave behind your heartache, cast away_  
_Just another product of today_  
_Rather be the hunter than the prey_  
_And you're standing on the edge, face up 'cause you're a_  
_Natural_  
_A beating heart of stone_  
_You gotta be so cold_  
_To make it in this world_  
\- Natural, Imagine Dragons

* * *

_Wednesday, September 24, 2003_

**Kelly** **’s: Lucky’s Room**

Bobbie knocked on Lucky’s slightly ajar door, a folder tucked under her arm. “Hey. I didn’t think I’d catch you here—” She grinned. “You never seem to be in this room anymore.”

“Yeah, well—” Lucky shrugged. “I’m spending a lot of time with Kelsey right now.” He nodded at the folders. “Did you find something?”

“I don’t know,” Bobbie admitted. “I found some of Elizabeth’s old timecards and tried to match her schedule to Ruby’s notes. She liked to keep her thoughts about the waitresses. What needed to be done.” And reading her aunt’s spidery handwriting had opened that well of sadness. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed Ruby’s comforting presence.

She handed a notebook to Lucky. “This covers the period between the time Ruby hired Elizabeth and shortly after the attack. She talks about hiring Elizabeth—mostly because Audrey begged her.”

Lucky opened it to one of the pages Bobbie had flagged and smiled, his fingers tracing the papers. “Aunt Ruby was a soft touch.” He skimmed an entry.

_“Didn’t fire the Webber girl again,” he read. “Wanted to. But there’s something about her that reminds me of Barbara. A fire. If it’s not tended properly, it can burn out of control. Better to watch her_.” He laughed at that. “God, she really was a terrible waitress.”

“A disaster,” Bobbie agreed. “Anyway, Ruby didn’t comment much on the customers, but she said for some reason, Elizabeth had a small stable of regulars.”

“Yeah.” Lucky blinked up at her. “Aunt Ruby couldn’t understand it, but there were a few people who came in when she was working. Mrs. Hanson. My dad liked her attitude.” He frowned. “I can’t remember who else.”

“Well, that’s what gave me the idea to start pulling her timecards and see if I could match some receipts. People didn’t pay by debit card that often, but Ruby ran tabs for the regulars who were just getting coffee or something quick.”

“Yeah, I remember that—”

“And I thought you could ask Vinnie Esposito if he saw anything.”

Lucky looked at his aunt. Shook his head. “Vinnie? Dante’s cousin?”

“Yeah, he was staying in one of the rooms. Right around the time Lois Cerullo moved back to Bensonhurst, she said a friend’s nephew was starting at the PCPD and could we do them a favor. Give him a room? So, Vinnie lived up here for…oh, almost two years, I think. From…”

Bobbie pressed a finger to her chin, trying to remember it. She hadn’t really been involved as much with Kelly’s then. But it was in the middle of that awful time when her marriage had fallen apart. She could remember that Lois’s call had been commiserating about Tony’s affair, asking if Bobbie was doing all right. “1996, I think. He moved out, oh, before Ruby died, I think, but he was still here in the fall of 1997. I’d have to double check the tax records to be sure, but—”

“Vinnie lived at Kelly’s.” Lucky just stared at her. Because damn it—that was _it_. That was what he’d been trying to remember.

“Yeah, and so I thought maybe he might…” Bobbie trailed off. “Lucky—?”

“He was one of Elizabeth’s regulars,” he murmured, more to himself. “I…I _remember_ that now. He came in for coffee in the evenings, halfway through the third shift.”

“Strange he wouldn’t have mentioned that if he knew her case was being reopened.” Bobbie tilted her head. “Lucky—”

“I need to…” He swallowed hard, closed Ruby’s book. “I need you to get me those tax records. Find out exactly how long Vinnie lived here. What kind of tab he ran. Ruby used to write down the dates and times so she could track their expenses. Do we still have those?”

“Ruby never threw out anything,” Bobbie murmured, as she realized what Lucky was getting at. “I’ll get that for you.”

“I’ve got to talk to Kelsey. I have to check on something.” Lucky’s hands were shaking as he reached for his jacket.

“Lucky, you should call Taggert.”

“Accuse another cop because he used to live here?” Lucky shook his head. “No. Besides, Taggert is out of town. There’s just…there’s something else I need to check. Something that might…Aunt Bobbie, thanks for this. But I gotta go.”

And then he ran out, leaving Bobbie with the horrifying concept that maybe Elizabeth had known her rapist…and had continued to serve him for months after it had happened.

**Pentonville: Interrogation Room**

Baker was pale when he was led in, his eyes fixated on Morgan. Taggert eyed the prisoner before looking at Jason Morgan, who remained standing, leaning against the closed door.

Something told him that Baker wasn’t entirely surprised to find Jason Morgan here today, and however the hell Morgan had managed it—Taggert didn’t give a damn.

On this case, cutting a few corners was worth it. At least it was for the right reasons this time. He hit record on the player in front of him.

“You know why we’re here, Baker.” Taggert raised his brows. “Do we have to go through the motions where I promise you I’ll make sure you never see parole if you don’t come clean?” He offered a short sardonic chuckle. “That’s if you even get that far. You never know what might happen in a prison.”

And now Baker’s eyes flitted from Morgan to Taggert and back to Morgan. “You dirty son of a bitches. Cops ain’t no better than the assholes in here—”

“Cut the crap, Baker. You know something. You knew the color of her dress.”

“I—” Baker shifted. “Valentine’s Day. Lucky guess.”

“How’d you know Elizabeth was attacked on Valentine’s Day?” When Baker remained silent, Taggert slapped the table, and Baker visibly jumped. “Tell me!”

“No way.”

“Did you gossip with the cops you hired for security?” Taggert demanded. “Did someone talk too much?”

Baker’s eyes slid away. “Maybe.” He looked up to find Jason staring at him. Hard. Then Jason uncrossed his arms, flexed them, crossed them again.

“Sometimes…I got some…help with my…” Baker coughed. “Plans. Endeavors. Some…enforcing.”

“Someone helped you blackmail people?” Taggert asked. His blood boiled. “A _cop_ helped?”

“One guy. He…wanted to make money. Security wasn’t enough. Had a gambling problem. I hired him for shoots. And then to make visits. Marks paid faster when they thought the cops were in on it.”

Dirty piece of shit. “Which cop?”

“He liked to talk. Liked to brag, and I didn’t care much. He talked about this girl he wanted. She was a little young for him, he thought. But another year, maybe he could talk her into bed.” Baker licked his lips, sweat dripping down his cheeks. “But…I dunno, something happened. He couldn’t wait.”

“Couldn’t wait.” A cop. Fucking Baker was telling him it was a cop. A name skittered at the edge of his consciousness, but Taggert shoved it back. No fucking way. “What does that mean?”

“Saw her walking. She was sad. He liked her dress. Talked about the pretty red dress.” Baker slid back, almost as if he could feel the fury emanating from the mob enforcer behind Taggert.

“And he just…took it. Took her. She didn’t know him. Or didn’t realize it. She saw him all the time, but never knew it.” Baker wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“The name,” Taggert said quietly. “Which cop?”

But he already knew it. Even as Baker said it, Taggert knew it. It made too much sense, closed too many holes.

“Esposito. The one who moved to Buffalo.”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Kelsey** **’s Office**

Kelsey stared him. Visibly swallowed. “Lucky, just because he lived at Kelly’s—” Her face was pale as she shook her head.

“Just _listen_ to me,” Lucky said as he set a pile of folders on the conference table in her office. “Listen. I get it. I know it sounds insane, but once I realized Vinnie lived at Kelly’s—I started to think how well he fit the investigation. He was one of her regulars, but he was _also_ the first reporting officer to the Lopez and Logan attacks. He was assigned to Watson, Norton, and Morris. He never made the link, Kelsey. What if it _wasn__’t_ just laziness? He knew the department policy on testing suspects. He knew his DNA wasn’t in the system. He knew we’d increased patrols in the park after Brooke. That’s why there hasn’t been another attack.”

He set out the victim statements. “Every single one of the victims this year expressed a dislike for the investigating officer. And both Lopez and Logan didn’t think much of the first responding officer.”

“But about our theory about newspaper coverage?” Kelsey asked, leaning forward. “How does that fit?”

“It still tracks.” He took out a manila folder. “The investigation into Nikolas’s shooting? _Vinnie_ took statements from Elizabeth and Sarah. He _also_ took statements at the Christmas party where Nikolas and Jason went after each other, and Nikolas almost pressed charges for assault.”

Kelsey rose to her feet and reached for the folder. “He took a statement from Nikolas about the punch?”

“Veronica Logan was attacked in January of 2000. Vinnie got married in February of 2000 and moved to Buffalo. He moved back last fall.”

“And then first attack was February 14. Anniversary?” Kelsey asked. “She was questioned at Rice Plaza—” Her face paled as she saw the report. “By Vinnie.”

“He didn’t work the kidnapping case, but it was all over the squad room.” Lucky shook his head. “It wasn’t the _newspapers_. And what’s worse, back in ‘98, Vinnie logged Elizabeth’s dress into evidence.” Lucky tossed the copy of the evidence log on top of the others. “I know this is all circumstantial—”

“If your aunt can get us those timecards and the tab that shows he was in Kelly’s at the same time as Elizabeth, it’s something to start with.” She looked at Lucky. “I believe you. It’s too much of a coincidence that he took those statements. That he investigated. It was never the newspapers or tabloids, it was her involvement with the cops.”

“Yeah.” Lucky exhaled slowly. “I think maybe _that__’s_ how Baker knew about the dress. Vinnie moonlights as security at some of the clubs in town. He probably worked for Baker back then. I think if we showed Brenda Barrett his picture or Emily—”

“They might pick him out as a cop who ran security. Maybe.” Kelsey looked at the pile of work. “If we could get his DNA, we’d lock it up, but I don’t know if this is enough for a judge.”

“But—”

“We can put him at Kelly’s, yeah, but that’s not getting us anywhere. If Taggert gets his name from Baker, maybe…” Kelsey bit her lip. “Did you look into Buffalo?” She went back to her computer and pulled up a database. “I can’t remember if Buffalo is reporting yet to the state database—”

And there it was. February 14, 2000. February 14, 2001. February 14, 2002. Three more rapes. In a park. All unsolved. Nothing more was listed.

“Buffalo has three unsolved rapes on Valentine’s Day from the time Vinnie moved there until he came home.”

“Then Dana Watson here on Valentine’s Day. Sticking to his schedule—-”

“Until he sees Elizabeth at the hospital. Takes her statement about the fall. A week later, Renee Norton. It triggers the old pattern.” Kelsey reached for the Corinthos kidnapping file. “You said he didn’t work the Lansing case, but…” She nodded. “I remember his name. He signed up for shifts to watch the Webber house, but Taggert didn’t need him.”

“And he was one of the responding officers when Elizabeth found Carly. Because Capelli had been suspended, we were short-staffed. Vinnie was there that day.”

“Then a few days later, Wendy Morris.” She looked at him. “What about Brooke?”

“Elizabeth had been released from the hospital, but she came by the station that same day to fill out some paperwork. Vinnie was probably there.”

Kelsey chewed her lip as she made notes, trying to make it all line up. “It’s…too neat to be a coincidence, but—”

“He’s a cop,” Lucky said. “That’s how they’ll play it. This isn’t enough, is it?”

“We’ll need more. Your aunt’s records will help. If Baker gives us Vinnie’s name as guy who told him about the dress, I think it’ll add to it. I need to call Buffalo. Ask about these cases. If Vinnie investigated even one of them—if all the victims are similar in any way—” She reached for her phone.

“He came in for months afterward. I remember him now,” Lucky said, his teeth clenched. “She thought he was safe. He was a cop. She never once suspected him.”

“We’ll get him, Lucky.” The misery on his face tugged at her, and she reached out to touch his forearm. “Once we have his DNA, he won’t be able to talk his way out of it.”

“Yeah, well. We better get it soon.” He exhaled slowly. “I should check in with Taggert on this, but he left for the prison.” He looked at his watch. “They’re probably there by now. I’ll call him in about a half hour. Get those files from Buffalo.” He leaned in, kissed her hard. “Be careful, okay? Let’s keep this under wraps. I don’t want to spook him.”

**Buffalo Police Department: Squad Room**

“Some skirt from Port Charles DA office wants the files on our Valentine’s rapist.”

Chuckie Johnson scowled as his commanding officer dumped the memo on his desk. “What for?”

“Says there’s a link to an open case they got there. Get her copies,” the captain said, “but don’t give away the farm. She’s got a lead on the bastard, I want the collar. We worked the case too hard not get it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” When his captain had gone back into the office, Chuckie reached for his phone. If some bitch wanted the details on his cases, she could damn well get them from the original investigating officer. Why bother wasting his time with copying and scanning when he could just make a call?

“Yo, Esposito. How are the sunny shores of Port Charles treating you?”

**Port Charles Municipal Building: Hallway**

Kelsey scowled as she saw the line for the elevators. Lunch rush. Damn it. It would take at least two trips before she could make it on board, and the last thing she wanted to do was pull rank and force her way forward. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. If anyone found out she was looking at a cop—

She checked her watch and sighed. She wanted to get this search warrant before a judge as soon as possible. Lucky’s aunt had dropped off tax records proving Vinnie’s residence, records of his tab that were dated and could be corroborated by Elizabeth’s timecards. She’d combined that along with the handcuffs, the hair signature, and Elizabeth’s official interactions with Vinnie on the job—

Kelsey had polished everything up and had decided not to wait for official word from Buffalo—the captain she’d spoken to hadn’t seem all that enthusiastic. She would never understand people who got their panties in the twist because someone else might solve the case.

She k_new_ Vinnie was guilty—could feel it in her bones—and she was determined to get a judge to sign an order for DNA to prove it.

Kelsey pushed open the door to the stairwell and started down the three flights to the ground floor. The courthouse was only across the street and down two blocks—she could catch Judge Farrell before he left—

Her thoughts flew out of her head as something shoved her forward, a force between her shoulder blades sent her flying through the air.

She landed hard halfway down the stairs, her hip and shoulder slamming against the concrete treads. She hardly had time to scream as she tumbled the rest of the way—

And then her head slammed into the floor. Everything went black.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Elizabeth looked at the clock. She’d hoped that Jason would call at some point to tell her how the visit went—they should have been on their way back home by now, but—

She picked up her cell phone, then scowled. She’d forgotten to plug it in. Again. Jason was always reminding her to do it but—

She sighed, plugged it in and was reaching for the landline when it rang. She picked it up.

“Miss Webber, Detective Esposito from the PCPD is here. He’d like to talk to you.”

“Oh. Uh, send him up, I guess.” She didn’t really remember talking to Detective Esposito before—the name sounded dimly familiar so maybe he’d been around during the summer. Taggert was with Jason, so it was likely he’d sent this detective with follow-up questions. Maybe everyone else was busy putting out fires after her press conference.

When the knock at the door came, Elizabeth opened it. “Detective Esposito?” she asked. He was tall, lanky with short dark hair and brown eyes. He did look familiar. “Have we met before?” she asked with a slight frown. She looked past the detective, noticed that her guard, Cody, wasn’t there. Maybe he’d stepped out to use the bathroom. Strange. But maybe he’d taken the opportunity because she was with a cop.

“Yeah.” He flashed her a hesitant smile. “You probably don’t remember. I talked to you after your fall in May.”

“Oh. Right.” She stepped back to let him in. “I knew you looked familiar. How can I help you?” Out of habit, she flipped the deadbolt and secondary lock on the door.

As Elizabeth turned her back to walk towards the sofa, Vinnie carefully unhooked the phone cord from the back of her receiver.

“Just a few questions, Miss Webber. It won’t take long.”

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

It was too horrible to be true but as Lucky Spencer detailed the case he’d built against Vinnie Esposito, Mac simply closed his eyes, his stomach twisting. A cop. A cop under his command was a serial rapist. And it made too much sense for it to be anything else. It all fit.

God help them.

He took a deep breath, looked at his officer. “This isn’t going to be easy,” Mac warned him. “Vinnie filed a complaint about the suspension. He’s back on duty, pending a hearing. We need more—”

“Can’t we bring Vinnie in? Do _something_ to get his DNA? I could get him a soda or something.” Lucky paced the office. “Aunt Bobbie got Kelsey the records, but there’s no way to know how long before Buffalo gets back to us—”

“Lucky—”

“If this is his pattern, Elizabeth was in to give a statement. He could be looking for a new victim.” His eyes found Mac’s. “With the press conference—he might go for her next.”

“It’s not dark yet, Lucky. I’ll…give him an assignment. Something overnight.”

“Mac—”

Lucky’s phone rang, and he scowled at the ID. “Why the hell is Scott Baldwin calling me?”

“Spencer—” Scott’s characteristic bombastic nature was absent from his tone. “You tell Scorpio to get everyone over to the MB. All the crime scene people. His best—” His voice faltered. “Kelsey was pushed down the steps. Some people heard her scream. We don’t know anything yet. She’s on her way to the hospital—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Lucky cut him off. His hands were trembling as he shoved the phone into his back pocket. “Mac. Someone just shoved Kelsey down the steps.”

“What?” Mac lunged to his feet. “Why? How could he—” He rushed out of the room and Lucky followed.

Vinnie was nowhere to be seen, but Dante was at his desk, watching security footage. He blinked as they rushed towards him. What’s—”

“Where’s your cousin?” Lucky demanded.

“Why?” Dante slowly got to his feet. “Everything okay? He got a call and left—”

Mac ignored him and grabbed for Vinnie’s extension, called down to the receptionist and switchboard operator. “Judy, did you transfer any calls to Vinnie Esposito today?” He listened to her answer, then closed his eyes. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”

He set the phone down carefully. “Charles Johnson from the Buffalo Police Department called Vinnie about a half hour ago. What do you want to bet he was giving a friend a heads up that some old files were being requested by his new ADA?”

Lucky fisted his hands at his side. “He knew we were on to him. Why the hell go after Kelsey? Why not run?”

“What the hell is going on?” Dante demanded. “What do you—No fucking way. My cousin isn’t a rapist—” He grabbed Lucky’s shirt, fisting his hand in the fabric. “No—not Brooke—He _knew_ her!”

“Dante—” Mac shook his head. He looked at Cruz. “Rodriguez.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Put together a detail. Call CSU and get over to the Municipal Building. There’s been an assault.” He looked to Lucky. “I need you to put out an APB on Vinnie. No details. Just locate him and report. And call Taggert.” He checked his watch. “They should be on their way back by now.”

“Mac, what about Elizabeth?”

Mac frowned. “What about her—” He swallowed. “A distraction. Kelsey’s a distraction. Vinnie knows it’s over for him. If he’s not using this time to get out of town, then—”

Lucky tugged his cell out of his pocket. Started to dial. “He’s been trying to recreate it all along. He was always going back to Elizabeth eventually. Let me call her—”

“Call her. She’s at the Towers, and their security is top notch. Get them to hold Vinnie if he shows up. Get that APB out. Get Taggert up to speed.” He jabbed a finger. “Rodriguez, I’m with you.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

“So, what brings you by?” Elizabeth asked. “I know Lieutenant Taggert is up at Pentonville.”

“Yeah.” Vinnie leaned against the arm of their sofa and looked at her. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you but there’s a theory that maybe you knew the guy. That you came into contact with him.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. They said they think I was the first.”

“Yeah. You were.” Vinnie tilted his head. “And you know they say there’s something _special_ about the first.”

Elizabeth hesitated as she shuffled some magazines on the coffee table into a pile, but then shook it off. She was just…feeling a bit jumpy, maybe. “I guess. To him. So…you want me to try to remember back then?”

“Yeah. Someone maybe you didn’t even realize was around. Someone who you saw at Kelly’s. Or maybe when you went out. What did you do for fun back then?”

“Oh…not much.” Something was making her skin crawl, and she just…she wanted to believe it was that she was talking about this era with a cop she didn’t know. That was it. He was a man and talking about her rape was uncomfortable with men.

“I was grounded a lot. Um. Usually, Kelly’s. Sometimes the mall. The movies. We used to go to Luke’s but not after the shooting.” She sighed at that memory as she picked up a glass of water she’d left on the table. “My grandmother worried about us, I guess.”

“The shooting?” Vinnie prompted.

“Oh. December ‘97. Nikolas Cassadine was shot.” She sipped her water, remembering that night. “In the throat. God, it was so terrifying. He couldn’t breathe, and he just—he almost died. But Jason…saved his life. My sister was dating him—Nikolas I mean-- so I tried to keep her…”

And then she turned, the glass in her hand, and stared at him. “You were there.”

“I wondered if you would remember.”

And this time, when Vinnie Esposito smiled, she knew.

_She knew._

**SUV**

Taggert had to let Morgan drive on the way back. He had brought a copy of his files with him and was now pouring over them, looking for any connection he could find. He wanted to have everything together before he presented a case to Mac and Kelsey.

And he knew that Morgan needed something to do, something on which to focus his anger.

Now that they had a name.

They were just inside the city limits when Taggert’s cell rang. Out of habit, he hit the speaker phone so he could take the call without stopping his work. “Yeah?”

“Taggert, we’ve—we’ve had a development here.” Lucky Spencer’s voice was tremulous as it echoed in the car. “I think we know who it is.”

“Hopefully it matches what Baker gave us—” Taggert said, leaving the phone on speaker. He hesitated. “What’s wrong? You sound like shit—”

“Uh, I got a lead—I took it to Kelsey Joyce, and…Christ, he shoved her down the stairs. We can’t find him. Elizabeth’s not answering. Where the hell are you guys?”

Taggert felt the speed increase as he glanced at Jason. Those features could have been etched in stone for all the emotion that could be seen—and yet, the fury was palpable, radiating throughout the car.

“What the hell happened?”

“I talked to Bobbie who remembered Vinnie lived at Kelly’s during Elizabeth’s attack. And then I remembered he came in almost halfway through his shift. During Elizabeth’s. So, I just…I pulled records. He interviewed her at the drive by at Luke’s. And then—”

“He took my statement when Cassadine went after me at the Christmas party,” Morgan said, his voice flat. “Elizabeth was there.”

“Yeah. And the garage fire. He responded then. Wasn’t on call but came. He investigated the Rice Plaza fall before I took over—”

“And the Lansing house this summer. He wanted to take a shift watching it. Fuck me. He investigated three of the rapes. Fucked them up, but he’s a goddamn lazy piece of shit so I thought--”

“You’re not surprised— did Baker gave his name?”

“Yeah. Baker gave his name. You said he went after Kelsey?”

“Yeah.” He could hear Lucky swallow hard. “She was putting together a warrant for his DNA. She found three other rapes in Buffalo while he was there, but when she made the request for more info—”

“One of his good buddies gave him the heads up because I’ll just bet he investigated those, too.” Fuck this world. “Is she okay? What’s going on?”

“She’s…in surgery. She, um, hit her head pretty hard. And there’s some bleeding. We got an APB out on Vinnie. Just to locate and report back. But I tried to call Elizabeth. Her cell goes to voice mail and her phone just keeps ringing. She’s not here at the hospital. I had her paged. I’m calling everybody—”

“Get uniforms to her place. We’re going there first. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the line. “You got security at the building, yeah?”

“Yeah, on the door, but—” Jason swallowed hard. “We’ve been cooperating with the police lately. And she doesn’t know—” He gave Taggert a number to dial and put on speaker phone. “Wally, is Elizabeth at home?”

“Yeah, she came home about twenty minutes before the cop got here. I let him up about ten minutes ago.” There was a pause. “You know, Cody came downstairs like five minutes ago, said Miss Webber was going to be down to go to the station, but she’s still not—”

Jesus Christ. “Get up there!” Taggert ordered.

“Was that…Lieutenant Taggert?” Jason’s security guy asked, confused.

Jason’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Get anyone you know. Anyone on duty. Get upstairs.”

The line went dead as Jason pressed down on the gas pedal. Taggert reached into his glove compartment, pulled out the portable siren, and stuck it on top of the car.

They raced towards Harborview Towers, praying they wouldn’t be too late.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

“You…took our statement,” Elizabeth said. Her cell was dead, but maybe…if she could get the cordless off the receiver. She looked at it…and saw the thin telephone cord laying on the ground. Could she—would the cordless work if the base wasn’t plugged in? Could she get to the phone in time?

Her blood froze over, but she sipped her water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t remember you when you came to the door. That was so long ago. And…I think you used to come to Kelly’s.”

“I used to live there before I got married,” Vinnie said easily. “You know you’re not the only woman. The first. But not the only.”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, I mean, I know.” Keep calm. Keep cool. Get to the door. Get to the intercom. “Lieutenant Taggert told me.”

“Do you know why there were others?” Vinnie asked as she slowly stepped towards him. _Get around him. Get to the door._

“I…I’m not sure. Um…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Maybe I know them. Did you bring pictures? Do you know any names?”

“They look like you,” Vinnie said. “But they were never you.” His smile slid away a bit. “I tried so hard to find someone who was as perfect as you.”

_Oh. God._

“I—” Her mouth was dry. She was two feet from him. More than fifteen from the door. _Oh. God._ “What was wrong with them?”

“They should have been right.” He shook his head. “Same hair. Same ages. Same body. I followed them all just like you. They stopped like you. It was supposed to be a sign. It _should_ have been right.” His face twisted in irritation as he swung out— the glass flying from her hand and shattering against the hardwood floor.

She bolted, but never made it more than half a step before he grabbed her from behind, an arm around her waist, another at her mouth.

Just like before. It was just like before. Her brain froze. Blackness threatened at the edge of her vision. Oh, God. Oh, God. She had to get away. Had to make this stop.

“They were _wrong_!” he raged as he lifted her, tossed her on the sofa. He straddled her, took her hands in his, wrapping his fingers around her wrists. “They didn’t _smell_ right. Didn’t _feel_ right!”

“Please, God, please. Please.” She’d never make it out alive this time. She knew him. Could identify him. “Please _don__’t_.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” His grip softened as he stroked her cheek. Bile rose in her throat. “I was sorry. I saw your statement. You knew I was sorry. You heard me crying. You didn’t…you didn’t like it.”

“No.” She closed her eyes, the tears streaking down her cheeks. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t want it. Please don’t…. not again.”

She’d never survive it again.

“I couldn’t try again. Not with you. I had to wait. For you to get older. To understand. To see me. I waited, but—” He slapped her face. “Look at me, damn it!”

Elizabeth did and saw the insanity lit in his eyes. “Please—”

“But you never saw me. I had to find someone else. But they were never you. They were never _right._ I knew you had to be next, and I wanted it to be perfect. But that bitch attorney—” He hissed. “She’s on to me. I took care of her, but she probably told that pissant Spencer. I had to get to you. To see if it would be the same. Or better.”

Oh, thank God. Kelsey Joyce somehow knew. Maybe Lucky knew. He wouldn’t get away with it.

“It won’t—”

“No, it’ll never be the same,” Vinnie agreed. “I was your first. _That__’s_ why you were special. Because I was first. But it’ll be better than the others. Because it’s you. It had to be you.” He slid his hand down to stroke her hair.

His grip loosened on her wrist and she took her chance, maybe the only chance she’d ever have.

Elizabeth brought her knee up sharply against his groin and then sprang up, twisting until her elbow could get him in the abdomen. He howled, reared back.

He’d catch her before she could unlock the door—so she ran upstairs, to the bedroom.

She slammed the door shut, flipped the lock, and reached under her bed for the baseball bat Jason had given her. If he came through that door, she’d be ready.


	29. Chapter Forty-Eight

_Surrounded and up against a wall_  
_I'll shred 'em all and go with you_  
_When choices end, you must defend_  
_I'll grab my bat_  
_And go with you, I'll go with you_  
_I'll go with you, I'll go with you, yeah_  
\- My Blood, Twenty One Pilots

* * *

_Wednesday, September 24, 2003_

**Morgan Penthouse: Bedroom**

It took two tries before the door flew off the hinges, the frame cracking from the pressure as Vinnie rushed into the room, his eyes lit with fury. “You fucking bitch!”

And she swung.

She swung for his knees first because Jason had taught her to do that. She swung low and hard, and cracked him right in the kneecaps. He flew forward, arms flailing, his chin hitting the foot board, the crack of bone hitting wood echoed in the room.

She didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—to see if it had taken him down. Baseball bat in hand, she flew out of the bedroom, down the stairs, into the living room—

Where the door was being busted open. She barely had time to see the security guards flying in before Jason and Taggert were there. She dropped the bat and launched herself into Jason’s arms.

“I went for the knees,” she managed as the tears came. “And I ran.”

“Christ,” he managed as he buried his face in her hair and couldn’t say anything else.

Taggert left Elizabeth with Morgan and followed the mixture of security and uniforms into the bedroom where Vinnie Esposito was moaning, his chin busted open and his knee soaked in blood.

“She went crazy,” Vinnie managed. “Thought I was gonna hurt—”

Taggert kneeled down, careful to avoid the blood soaking the bedroom floor. “Not gonna work, asshole. You’re not going to be able to half-ass your way through this. I got you cold. Assault and attempted rape here. But you see this blood? We’re gonna test it, Vinnie. We already knew it was you. Now we’re gonna _prove_ it.”

He looked at the uniform. “Call paramedics. Call CSU. I want his blood collected and taken to the lab.”

“Jesus, Taggert,” the uniform whose name he couldn’t remember. “He’s one of us.”

“He’s nothing now. He raped seven women. He doesn’t walk away from this.”

He left the room and found Jason downstairs examining Elizabeth’s wrists and her jaw from his perch on the coffee table as she sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa. “Elizabeth.”

“How did…” She winced as Jason pressed on her busted lip. “How did you know?”

“Everything came together at once.” Taggert looked at the medics who came in. “He gets cuffed. Cop stays in the room with him. I find out he’s been alone for even a _second_, I’ll have your asses.”

He returned his attention to Elizabeth. “Lucky tracked down a few records that put him at Kelly’s during that period in contact with you. And then the pattern—we thought it was newspaper coverage—”

“But it was actually talking to the cops,” she murmured. “I’m okay,” she told Jason. “He didn’t—he hit me. And my shoulder is sore from when I hit the sofa. But I’m really okay.”

Jason just pressed his lips together and shook his head. He reached for her wrist so he could take her pulse. “It’s too fast. We’re going to the hospital.” Jason got to his feet, looked at Taggert. “Can you take her statement there?”

“Yeah. I’ll ride with…” Taggert scowled as the medics rolled a stretcher out and Vinnie moaned. “I want to make sure he stays under lock and key. I’ll see you guys down there.”

He nodded at the bat near the sofa. The same bat he’d found her clutching that horrible day in July. “Is that what you took him out with?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth sighed. “It’s one of the few things I’ve kept with me. Jason taught me to aim low and run.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever have to use it,” Jason muttered gathering her into his arms again, almost as if he weren’t touching her, she’d disappear.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Taggert said, clearing his throat. “Good work, Elizabeth.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Lobby**

Dante strode into the lobby of the hotel, frantically searching for his mother before heading to the front desk. “I need Olivia Falconieri. Now.” He flashed his badge. “It’s an emergency.”

The desk clerk disappeared into the back. It felt like a thousand hours before his mother rushed out, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

“Baby, what is it?” Olivia demanded, her dark eyes worried. “Are you hurt? Are you sick—” She hurried around the counter to touch his face. “Dante—”

“It’s Vinnie, Ma.”

“Vinnie?” Olivia repeated. She stepped back, shook her head. “Is he hurt? Should I call Aunt Fran?” But something in his face, in his tone must have registered. “Dante, stop beatin’ around the bush.”

“It was Vinnie. The whole time. He did it.” He clenched his hands into fists. “All those girls—”

Olivia took her son by the elbow and led him away from the center of lobby, to a cluster of chairs near the large fireplace. “What are you sayin’ to me? That my nephew, your cousin, that he attacked—” She shook her head. “No. He _knew_ Brooke. He grew up with her. Just like you. He was supposed to—”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “How can you know that? What happened?”

“A lot of things, but he went after Elizabeth Webber today. Lied his way into her apartment, pretending he was there to question her.”

Olivia pressed her hands to her mouth, shaking her head. “No. Oh, God, that poor girl. Is she okay—has someone told Ned? Called Lois?”

“I don’t know. Elizabeth is okay, I think. That’s what the report said. She had a baseball bat and went at him.” Dante’s skin felt wrong, like it was stretched too tightly over his body. “Ma—the _whole_ time.”

“I—I can’t—but if he went after—” Olivia set her hand on the wall, looking for balance. “I should call your aunt. I should—I should—Ned is here. His campaign office is here.”

“I’m going to the hospital, Ma. To check on Elizabeth and Kelsey.” At his mother’s mystified look, Dante added, “Oh, yeah. Lucky figured out Vinnie was the guy, and Kelsey called Buffalo for some open cases. They warned Vinnie, and he shoved her down a flight of stairs to keep her from getting a warrant.” He smiled, a broad sour smile. “He needed time to go after Elizabeth. Like a grand fucking finale.”

“I—” Olivia shook her head. “I can’t wrap my head around this. I changed his diapers. I’m—” Her voice trembled as she struggled to get herself together. “I’m his _godmother_.”

“You all right? I’ll stay—”

“No. No. I can—” Olivia squared her shoulders. “I can do this. Ned should know, and I want him to hear it from me. I want Lois to hear it from him, from me—that my blood did this.” For a moment it looked as though she might crumble. “My blood took their daughter. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he’s the reason—”

Dante hugged her and didn’t pull back until he felt her shoulders stop trembling. “Are you sure don’t want me to stay?”

“No.” Olivia exhaled slowly. “No.”

He walked his mother to the elevators where he helped her in and pressed the button for the fifth floor where the offices were located. “Call me if you need anything, Ma.”

“I’m not the one who needs anything,” Olivia murmured. The doors closed, her son’s face disappearing as the car started to climb.

Oh, how was she ever going to explain this to Ned and Lois? She’d known Brooke all her life—she’d known Vinnie all _his _life. She didn’t like her sister that much, and Vinnie was a disappointment but this—

She’d never seen _this_ coming.

When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Olivia took a deep breath, pressed a hand to her belly to remind herself to keep it together. This wasn’t about her.

Ned’s campaign office was the third door down, and it was already open. She was grateful he wasn’t alone—relieved to find Jax and Alexis with him as they went over the schedule for the next week.

“Olivia—” Ned said, smiling at first as he saw her on the threshold. Then he saw her face. Alexis and Jax both turned. “What’s happened?”

“Dante just—” Olivia swallowed hard, the bile rising in her throat. “He just came. They—there’s been an arrest.”

“Oh, thank God.” Alexis closed her eyes. “How strong is the case—”

Jax touched her arm, quieting her. His dark blue eyes on her. “Olivia, what’s happened?”

“It’s Vinnie.” Olivia shook her head. “Vinnie Esposito. He’s my nephew. Dante’s cousin.”

“He’s a cop,” Alexis said, moving closer to Ned who just stared at her, expressionless. “You’re telling me they arrested a cop—”

“I don’t—” Olivia’s voice faltered, and she was grateful when Jax came to her side and just took her hand. “I don’t know all the details. I just—I know that it must have happened fast. He was tipped off that he was a suspect and shoved the ADA down the stairs when she went to get a warrant. And then he went after Elizabeth Webber—she’s fine,” she added hastily as Ned started to lunge forward, towards the phone, towards the door, she couldn’t quite say. “At least Dante said he thought she was. She had a baseball bat and went after him.”

“A cop did this,” Alexis repeated. She wrapped a hand around Ned’s upper arm. “How could—”

“He was the investigating officer Floyd was trying to suspend,” Ned managed to say. He was shaking—just the slightest tremble. Alexis could feel it beneath her fingers. “He—he investigated the first three—refused to make the connection.”

“I can’t—he knew Brooke,” Olivia said, her voice thick. “_He knew her_. What kind of animal could—” She couldn’t say anything else.

“I have to call Lois,” Ned said after a long moment. He closed his eyes. “And then my family. I want to go to the hospital. I want to see Elizabeth. I just need to be sure—”

“I’ll make some calls,” Alexis told him. “Jax, can you call the hospital? Get Elizabeth’s status? I’ll call your family. And I should call Nikolas. If he doesn’t know already—”

“I’m so sorry,” Olivia said faintly, the tears sliding silently down her face. “So goddamn sorry.”

But Ned was already picking up the phone to call Lois and shatter her world just as thoroughly as Olivia’s. After all…Lois knew Vinnie, too.

**General Hospital: Emergency Room**

Sonny rushed through the doors, almost skidding to a stop as he made his way to the front desk where a harried nurse was making notes on a chart. “Elizabeth Webber,” he demanded.

“Family or police?” the nurse asked without looking up.

Sonny scowled, but Bobbie came up and grabbed his arm. “We’re over here, Sonny.” Her face was pale as she led Sonny towards a closed curtain.

“They called me at the warehouse—” He dragged his hand through his hair, mussing the curls. “How the hell did this happen?”

“I’m not—” Bobbie exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. It—it happened fast. Everything fell into place—Lucky developed Vinnie as a suspect at the same time Baker was confessing to Taggert and Jason. But by the time we knew—he had already talked himself into the penthouse, unhooked her phone and gotten rid of her guard.”

“_This_ is why you don’t cooperate with the goddamn PCPD,” Sonny muttered as he followed Bobbie behind the curtain where a pretty Asian doctor was studying an ultrasound monitor.

Elizabeth was stretched out on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown. Her face was bone white. There was a new bruise on her cheek bone, another blooming at the edge of her collarbone, and her upper lip was cut and slightly swollen. Jason was standing next to her, one of her hands intertwined in both of his and pressed to his chest.

“Elizabeth,” Sonny said, simply. “I—”

“Sonny.” Elizabeth managed a smile. “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay—” She winced. “My face hurts—”

“Jason—” Sonny looked at his partner who didn’t have much more color than his girlfriend. “What—”

“We’re waiting,” Jason said, flatly, but not unkindly. “Bobbie, have you heard from anyone at the department—”

“No, but my usual source is up in surgery, waiting with Lucky about Kelsey Joyce.” At Sonny’s confused glance, Bobbie shook her head. “Lucky went to Kelsey Joyce, the ADA, and they looked up Vinnie’s record in Buffalo. There were a bunch of Valentine’s Day attacks. She requested the files, hoping it would strengthen her case for DNA. But someone at the Buffalo police called Vinnie and warned him. He shoved her down a flight of stairs, and she hit her head pretty hard.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Elizabeth told Jason. “She was working so hard on this case.” She twisted her head back to Kelly Lee. “Dr. Lee?”

“Your vitals are high, but that’s not unexpected,” the doctor told her. “Elevated blood pressure is common after someone fights for their life.” Her smile didn’t match the worry in her eyes. “But the baby looks good on the ultrasound so far. We’ll keep you overnight, and I’m sure Monica will want to run some additional tests.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“I know, honey,” Bobbie murmured, touching Elizabeth’s foot at the bottom the bed. “But you’re in the best hands, and we’re right here. Emily is in surgery, but she’ll be down, and Nikolas is on his way. You’re not alone, baby.” She looked to Sonny. “Why don’t you and I go update Carly? She’s at the Brownstone with Michael, and I’m sure she’s worried.”

They left the curtain as Bobbie’s face dimmed slightly. Sonny winced. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“He threw her around the living room, chased her up the stairs—” Bobbie wrapped her arms around her torso. “So far so good, but if after everything they’ve been through—everything Elizabeth went through—to lose the baby—that just wouldn’t be fair.”

“Elizabeth is tough, Bobbie.” Sonny put an around her, and Bobbie allowed him to pull her into a light hug. “Tougher than anyone I know. And she hasn’t had one of those panic attacks Jason told me about, right? No breathing problems?”

“No, but I don’t know if it’s even hit her yet. The man who raped her was a police officer she _willingly_ let into her home.” Bobbie managed a sad smile. “And upstairs, Scott is worrying about a young woman he’s known all her life. I didn’t tell Elizabeth, but—” Her voice broke. “Kelsey had serious bleeding on the brain when she came in.”

Bobbie bit her lip, then shook her head. “But I don’t want Elizabeth or Jason to deal with any of that right now. Can you stay with them while I call Carly, then check on Scott and Lucky?”

“Sure. Whatever you need. You said Emily and Nikolas were on their way?”

“They’ll be here shortly.” Bobbie hesitated once more before she went down the hall. “You look good, Sonny. Better. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I want—” She pressed her lips together. “I want us all to put last summer behind us. Including you.”

“I hope we can do that soon,” Sonny told her.

**General Hospital: Surgical Waiting Room**

Scott couldn’t sit. He’d always been restless, and even now—pacing the length of the room, back and forth until he was dizzy—it didn’t change the fact that a woman barely out of law school, a woman he’d known since she was born—she was in an operating room, fighting for her life.

He’d given her too much responsibility. End of story. Put her in charge of this rape case her first month on the job? He scowled at himself, dragged his hands through his hair, letting it stand up crazily on its ends. What the hell had he been thinking?

He looked over to find Lucky and Cruz sitting next to each other, both pale and silent. Fucking kids. That’s all they were. They’d come on the job, looking to do good, and what had they gotten? Nothing but bullshit.

“Spencer.” Scott looked at him, swallowed hard, as Laura’s son turned to look at him—his mother’s eyes in his father’s face. He liked them together, liked how happy and settled Kelsey had seemed these last few months. “Don’t go blaming yourself for this.”

Lucky grimaced. “I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should have realized that a request for the case files might leak back to Vinnie—”

“Five minutes after you left the office?” Cruz demanded. “Fucking cops protecting each other.” He snorted. “That’s it. I’m turning in my badge.” He glared at Scott. “And if you think I’m alone—”

“I don’t.” Scott sat down, but his foot kept tapping. “I don’t know how we could have missed it, but—”

“We didn’t miss it,” Lucky cut in. “The evidence wasn’t there to see until we had the link, until we talked to all the victims. Until we knew Elizabeth was the trigger. The problem isn’t that we didn’t know it was Vinnie. It was that Vinnie was left in charge of these cases for six months. A blind man would have seen the connection.”

“_You_ didn’t miss it,” Cruz said with a pointed look at his friend. “You knew Vinnie was wrong. You just didn’t know why.” He looked at Scott. “He went with Vinnie to interview Renee Norton. He could tell he was handling the case wrong, that he was giving Renee the creeps. But Taggert brushed it off. Didn’t even get a reprimand for telling a sixteen-year-old girl she shouldn’t have been in the park alone at night. The only heat Vinnie ever took was to save Floyd’s worthless ass.”

Scott sighed, rubbed his eyes. “We all dropped the ball. Everyone but you two and Dante. And Kelsey. You took care of Elizabeth Webber during the Lansing case, Rodriguez, and Spencer, you cracked this case wide open. Don’t think that because of what happened to Kelsey that it wasn’t worth it. You got all those women justice. When we work together, when we put the cases first—we do good work.”

“Yeah, but an innocent woman always seems to pay the price,” Lucky muttered. He shoved himself to his feet. “Dr. Jones said it might be a few more hours, so I’m going to check on Elizabeth downstairs.” His hand was almost trembling as he let it fall to his side. “I can’t sit here anymore.”

He stalked out of the room, leaving Scott alone with Cruz.

“I understand if you go,” Scott said after a long moment of silence, “but I’m asking you to give us a chance—”

“Funny. That’s what Taggert said the last time the PCPD put a woman in the hospital,” Cruz muttered, but then fell silent as they waited for news.

**General Hospital: ICU Waiting Room**

When Ned had arrived at the hospital, Jax and Alexis following in his wake, he’d been told that Vincent Esposito was being treated in the ICU for shattered kneecaps, a busted jaw, and a concussion, and that Mac and Taggert were upstairs waiting to take his statement.

“Maybe this isn’t a good time,” Alexis said softly as they stepped off the elevator. She touched Ned’s arm. “Maybe we should come back or meet with them—”

“No. I want to see them. I want to see their faces,” Ned muttered as he stalked towards the waiting room. He shoved open the door to find Mac and Taggert both sitting down, a coffee table in front of them covered in paperwork.

Taggert got to his feet as Ned walked in. “Ned—”

“What’s the case against him?” Ned asked as he looked at the man who had allowed his daughter’s rapist to literally operate beneath his nose. “How strong is it?”

“We got him cold on the assault today which is the initial charge we’re filing,” Mac said, without any inflection in his voice. “Elizabeth Webber reported that he confessed to her about being her attacker, that he had come back to finish it. We’re filing charges of aggravated assault and battery, with an option to upgrade to attempted murder on Kelsey.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“He was one of Elizabeth’s regulars back at Kelly’s where he rented a room. Ruby Anderson kept a lot of notes from that time, and Lucky and Bobbie both remember him coming in every evening for coffee. He also took statements from Elizabeth and Sarah in 1997 and was involved in several other police cases—”

“That’s all circumstantial,” Alexis interrupted. “What do you have—”

“Today, I went to the prison to interview Tom Baker,” Taggert told them. “He will also testify that Vinnie confessed to him about attacking Elizabeth. More importantly, we got the warrant for his DNA which will link him to all seven rapes. And the security cameras show him going into the stairwell at the same time Kelsey Joyce was known to be shoved down the steps.”

Ned thought all of that sounded good, but he looked to Alexis for confirmation. She pursed her lips but nodded. Ned looked back at Mac and Taggert. “He knew my daughter.”

“Dante said as much,” Mac said. He got to his feet. “Ned—” He swallowed hard. “There’s no words—there’s nothing I can say—”

“No, there’s not.” Ned clenched his fist. “A serial rapist operated in this city while you missed every sign. And then it turned out to be the very officer investigating the case. Your career is finished, Mac. Even if I were in a mood to forgive—”

“I offered my resignation to the mayor,” Mac told him. “I tried earlier this summer, but he refused to take it. He refused to take it again today. He believes any indication of fault from me will follow him.” His lips twisted into a sick smile. “It’s already too late, but he doesn’t see it. I can quit outright, or you can fire me as your first act.”

“You think you’re doing me a _favor_?” Ned demanded. His temper broke and he lunged across the room, taking Mac by the collar and shoving him against the wall. He shoved him once more, even as Jax and Taggert were scrambling to pull him back.

He wrapped his hand around Mac’s neck and squeezed. “You son of a bitch—you stole my daughter from me. You and this entire system—and you think you’re doing me a _favor_ by letting me fire you? Fuck you—” He released Mac with another shove.

“Ned,” Jax said, taking Ned’s arm and pulling back slightly. “Lois is on her way. Let’s—let’s go make sure she’s got a place at the hotel. We can work on a press statement—”

Ned shook off Jax’s arm and stalked out of the room. Jax sighed, then followed. Alexis hesitated. “Ah, I hope we can just—chalk that up to—”

“I don’t intend to press charges if that’s what you mean,” Mac muttered as he touched his throat. “I owed him that. And a lot more.”

“Cut the martyr act, Commissioner,” Alexis said, coolly. “No one is impressed. You made a selfish choice, and you’re going to pay for it.”

She stormed out. Taggert looked at his boss, then took his seat again. He wasn’t sure what the world would look like after Ned was sworn in as mayor, but he didn’t think the PCPD would ever be the same.

**General Hospital: Hospital Room**

The room was quiet, and all the lights were off save the one near her bed. It was nearly midnight, and most of the hospital floor had long since retired for the night.

But not Elizabeth. She was wide awake, staring at the monitors that were tracking her vitals and the fetal heartbeat. Both had remained steady since her blood pressure had returned to normal around six that evening, three hours after the attack.

She turned her head to find Jason still sitting next to her bed, still staring at the same monitor.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” she murmured. She took his hand in hers, tracing her fingers over the roughened skin. “And here I am, in another hospital bed.”

“All the security we put into place and…” Jason shook his head. “Guards. Alarms—” He dipped his head. “_None_ of it worked.”

“You bought the baseball bat,” she offered weakly, but she knew the fact that this had happened to her in the penthouse—the fortress where _he__’d_ insisted they move—was going to bother him for a long time.

“And you’ve used it twice,” he said with some exasperation. “That was supposed to make you _feel_ better, not—”

“I knew—” She sighed. “I knew I’d never make it to the door and unlock it before he got to me, but I thought I might be able to get to the bedroom, that I might be able to get to the bat under the bed. I knew it was there. I knew it was the last resort. But it worked, and you know what?” Her smile was faint but genuine. “It felt damn _good_ to swing that bat, to see him fly forward and crack his head open on the end of the bed. But I ran. I did what you told me to do.”

He brushed her hair back, off her forehead, letting his thumb rest against her temple. She closed her eyes, comforted by his presence, his scent. “Are you…we haven’t really talked about what happened. What he said.”

Jason had listened as Elizabeth had painfully recounted Vinnie’s actions, his words, and most importantly, his confession to Mac and Taggert. He’d said nothing, hadn’t even been sure what he could say.

“That night I told you I’d been to the prison—” He couldn’t force the words out. “You went back to that night. You were living through it again. And you’ve had it in your head since—”

“I was terrified,” she murmured. “He talked about what happened between us like it was a bad date. He looked at me like I was supposed to have remembered him and I just—I didn’t. Until I remembered—he was there at Luke’s. After Nikolas went to the hospital…” She closed her eyes. “Such a scary night, and I didn’t even think about the cop who took our statements. I didn’t remember he was someone who came into Kelly’s all the time. How could he have been so obsessed with me, been around me so much without me knowing?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “He’s sick. And you were just the excuse he used to go after these women.”

“Brooke knew him. She’d grown up with him.” Elizabeth closed her eyes, a sob bubbling up in her throat. “I keep thinking about her final words. The last thing she said before the phone went dead. She remembered something. Was it him? Do you think part of her knew it? Knew he was someone she knew? Poor Ned. And poor _Lois_. She must have known him, too.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll never know for sure.”

“I just—I want to go home. I want Monica to come in here, to tell me the scans are clean, that our baby is okay—” She shook her head. “I just want this to be over. It’s so _close_ to being over.”

“It will be. And by the time the baby is born, all of this—” He stopped. God, he wanted to promise her that it would be a distant memory by May, but—

“I know. But whatever happens next—” She reached up, touched his cheek. “We’ll get through it together.”

He leaned down to kiss her, brushing his lips against hers and lingering.

The door opened then, and Monica stepped into the shadows. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s late, but the scans came back—”

Jason pulled back and switched on another light. “No clots?”

“The MRI was clear. Your vitals have remained stable for six hours, and Kelly said the fetal heartbeat is strong. We’ll be releasing you in the morning.”

Monica came to the bedside and touched her son’s shoulder. “We might recommend some light bed rest, but beyond that, we’re cautiously in the clear.”

The pressure on her chest eased. She looked at Jason who was smiling down at her. “Bed rest,” she repeated. “Not a problem.”

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Monica told her, and now she sounded less like a doctor and more like Jason’s mother. “That this horrible case is over. I only wish that Brooke—I wish that she were here to see it. But the other women will sleep more peacefully knowing that animal is behind bars.”

“I know I will,” Elizabeth said. She watched as Monica left. “Of course, it means I might have to testify at another trial. But after today, nothing will feel scary again.”


	30. Chapter Forty-Nine

_Maybe redemption has stories to tell_  
_Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell_  
_Where can you run to escape from yourself?_  
_Where you gonna go?_  
_Where you gonna go?_  
_Salvation is here_  
\- Dare You To Move, Switchfoot

* * *

_Thursday, September 25, 2003_

**General Hospital: ICU**

Lucky’s chest eased as Kelsey opened her eyes, just a sliver of brown as she shifted and turned her head slightly. “What—” Her voice was little more than a raspy whisper. “What happened?”

“You were pushed down the stairs at work.” He leaned forward, taking a hand in his. “You hit your head.”

“Oh. Ow.” She closed her eyes again. “Am I okay? Why does everything hurt?”

“You cracked some ribs. And broke your ankle. But you had—” He had to stop. Take a breath. Remind himself she was okay. “You had a head injury. A brain bleed.”

“B-brain—” Her eyes opened again, wider now. “What?”

“You’re okay,” Lucky added, quickly. He kissed her palm. “The doctors say you’ll be fine.”

“The warrant—did—I was getting a warrant—”

“We got him, Kelse. He got a call from a cop in Buffalo about you asking for his cases, and he went after you to give him time for his grand finale.” Lucky grimaced. “He attacked Elizabeth—she’s okay,” he assured her when she gasped. “She took him out with a baseball bat. She’s here for observation because of the baby, but she’s okay. We got him. He got moved into lock up earlier.”

“We got him.” Her eyes fluttered close again. “She got him. Did you—”

“We sent out the DNA for a match, but we already charged him with your attack and Elizabeth’s. He’s not going anywhere.” He managed a smile. “Now you can just focus on getting better and out of this hospital.”

“You’re up!”

Lucky turned to find the disheveled district attorney at the door, with Bobbie just on his heels. “She woke up just a few minutes ago.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Scott hurried to the other side of the bed to take Kelsey’s other hand. Lucky got to his feet and took the coffee his aunt offered him. “Your mom is on her way up here—”

“Great. Just what I need,” Kelsey muttered.

“Scott, why don’t I go get one of her doctors while you tell them the good news?” Bobbie said, putting a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re awake and doing better, honey.” Bobbie patted the leg that wasn’t wrapped up in a cast and raised up in the air slightly.

“What good news?” Lucky asked as his aunt left the room. “We couldn’t have gotten DNA back yet—”

“We won’t need it.” Scott looked at Kelsey with a smile, before looking back at Lucky. “I’ve been in a meeting with Vinnie’s newly appointed lawyer. You and Spencer—you put together a tight case. We have the contact with Elizabeth, the contact with cases involving the other victims. We have Baker’s statement, naming him as the cop who confessed to him about Elizabeth. Emily identified him as one of Baker’s security during her photoshoots, and we got word from Brenda Barrett that she also knew Vinnie.”

“Wait—” Lucky held up a hand. “He’s confessing to the rapes? Not just yesterday—”

“He knows the DNA is going to match. He’s looking at seven separate rapes in the first degree, two of which were against minors. Outside the attacks yesterday, at trial, he’ll get seven consecutive sentences of 25 years to life.”

Kelsey sighed. “You’re pleading him down to a single sentence of 25 years, aren’t you?”

“I’ve contacted the other victims. Even Elizabeth Webber.” Scott shrugged. “Up to me, I’d lock the door and forget about him for two hundred years. But the others—”

“They just want it over.” Kelsey looked at Lucky. “I can’t blame them.”

“He’s young, Scott,” Lucky said quietly. “In twenty-five years—”

“He’ll be up for parole,” Scott told him. “But I will crawl out of my nursing home to bring those DNA reports to a parole hearing. He’s pleading to Elizabeth Webber’s rape and the attack yesterday. She deserves that. But his DNA matching in six other rapes? That keeps the door locked.”

He met Lucky’s eyes. “He’s not getting out. It’s over.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess—I don’t know. It feels like it’s not enough.”

“There is nothing we could ever do to make him pay enough for what he did to all of those girls. To Kelsey. We can’t bring Brooke Lynn Ashton back. But that’s the job, Spencer. Sometimes…throwing away the key is all we can do.”

“Thank you.” Lucky grimaced as Scott raised his eyes. “I know you’re the one that told Ned Ashton what happened to Elizabeth. I know you did it to get back at Floyd, mainly, but Ned and Elizabeth both deserved to know it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Scott shrugged. He leaned over to kiss Kelsey’s forehead. “I better go check in with your mother. See how long before she gets into town.”

“Thank you,” Kelsey murmured once Scott had left and they were alone again. “I know he’s not your favorite person—”

“If that guy had been investigating my mom’s case last year—” Lucky shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he turned himself around or something.” He smoothed her hair back, off her forehead, leaving his hand resting lightly against her skin. “You scared me.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” she murmured. “But hey, you’re a cop, so it’s only a matter of time before you’re in this bed, and I’m the scared one.”

“Yeah, well, let’s try not to do this again any time soon.” He hesitated. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey opened her eyes again, that smirk he’d fallen for all those weeks ago back in her eyes. “I know. I love you, too.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Owner** **’s Suite**

An exhausted Lois opened the door, her face lined with an obvious lack of sleep and her eyes red and puffy. “Hey.” Ned stepped forward to embrace her tightly.

“Hey.” She stepped back, kissed his cheek, and gestured for him to come into her room. “I’m sorry. I only got in around midnight.”

“Yeah, I asked the front desk to call when you checked in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lois shook her head, sat back on the sofa, and wrapped the ends of her cardigan more tightly around her torso. “I can’t seem—I can’t seem to make this work in my head.” She gestured at the television where WXPC News at Noon was muted. “They’ve been running the story all day, and I know what Alexis said on the phone—”

“Yeah. It—” Ned sat down, looked at the screen where the news anchor was speaking, a photograph of Brooke positioned in the upper right corner. “I thought when we knew—”

“I thought it’d be some stranger,” Lois murmured. “Someone we never knew. Not—” She looked at him, the tears sliding down her cheeks. “She knew him, Ned. Vinnie grew up down the street from her. They were never close—he’s older. But he knew her.”

She pressed her fist to her mouth. “I keep thinking maybe that’s why she did it. Maybe she remembered and she needed that image to go away. How—”

Ned slid closer to her and put an arm around her, drawing her in closer. “I know. I wondered, too.”

“Olivia called me as I was getting my things together, and she was—she was crying. Frannie—Vinnie’s ma—she was at my door, blubbering, trying to explain it was all a mistake, and I just kept—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Did he go after her _because _he knew her?”

“Why—”

“The reports said that he went after one of his other victims—Elizabeth Webber—that he went after her again yesterday because he knew her. A-And—” Her voice trembled. “He knew her then, didn’t he?”

“I don’t—” Ned exhaled slowly. “I got a case update this morning from Taggert. That’s the operating theory. He was one of her regulars at Kelly’s, and he started following her around—”

“Jesus. She was just a baby.” Lois lunged to her feet. “I did the math. Sixteen years old, and a grown man—a cop following her around. What? One night, it was just too much and he grabbed her?”

“Yeah. And then he attacked other girls who looked like her every time he came across Elizabeth. He was at the garage fire when Lucky Spencer—” Ned shook his head. “And in Buffalo, he attacked girls on the anniversary of her rape. Taggert said he kept picking girls who looked like Elizabeth, who left the movies, and stopped at a fountain—”

Lois shook her head. “Stop, stop. I get it.”

“I got another call on my way over. Scott Baldwin said he’s been in contact with the other victims, and he wanted my input. Vinnie’s asking for a deal. He wants to plead guilty—”

“You tell him to go to hell!” Lois snarled. “You tell him that we will see him fry—”

“The case is airtight, Lois. The DNA is gonna match. But a trial means all those women have to testify. Be cross-examined—”

“In front of the man who raped them.” She sighed. Leaned her head against the window that overlooked the park. God, she could see the fountain where her daughter had been stolen from her. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.” She pursed her lips. “What’s the deal Baldwin wants to make?”

“Twenty-five to life for rape in the first degree of Elizabeth Webber, aged sixteen.”

“Just her case—” Lois furrowed her brow. “Why—”

“Because he’ll never plead to all seven of them. And Elizabeth’s case started it all. She ended it yesterday with a baseball bat. She said she would come to the hearing, give a victim impact statement if we needed. No one else would. It was hard enough to get the other women to sit down for an interview, Lois. We can’t ask them to do more.”

“They want it over.” Lois rubbed her fist against her chest. “He’s only twenty-nine years old, Ned. Twenty-five years—he’ll be in his fifties—”

“And we’ll go to his parole hearing with his DNA match in every other case. Scott said he’d make it a point to make sure the DA’s office fought parole. And honestly, Lois—” Ned offered her a grim smile. “How long do you think Vinnie’s gonna live in prison after raping Jason Morgan’s girlfriend?”

Lois exhaled slowly. “I believe in the system most of the time,” she said finally. “But there are just some people who don’t deserve to live. But he can’t get the death penalty for our girl. He should. Because Brookie? That’s on him. He did that to her.”

“I know, baby—”

“But you’re right. A trial would make this all last so much longer. If he’s willing to sign a deal today—” She pressed her lips together. “If that part of it can be over today, we can all find a way to move on. I mean, nothing is bringing back our little girl, so better if it’s just over.”

“I told Scott to go ahead,” Ned admitted, “but I warned him I hadn’t run it past you. He assured me if one of the women or you or I had vetoed it, he’d go forward with our charges.”

“I appreciate it. At least something in this town is working right.” Lois looked back out over the park that stretched along several city blocks in downtown Port Charles. “You wipe the floor with Garrett Floyd in November, Neddy. And you make this a better place.”

“That’s the plan.” He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them lightly. “Come to the house. Lila is worried about you. And we have a better view.”

“Yeah. You’re not wrong. Thanks.”

**Port Charles Police Department: Lock-Up**

Dante was grimly pleased when he found his cousin laying on his back in the cell, moaning slightly. Vinnie’s face was bruised and cut from where he’d busted his cheekbone on Elizabeth Webber’s bed, and Dante knew the asshole was walking with a limp from the hit he’d taken from the bat.

He only wished Jason Morgan had had a chance to go after him—to finish the job.

“Hey, Cuz,” Dante said with a pleasant smile he didn’t feel. “Bad day?”

“Go to hell,” Vinnie muttered.

“Just found out my cousin is a dirty cop who brutally raped and beat seven women that we know of, so I don’t know, I kind of think I’m already there.” Dante tipped his head, jerked his chin out. “Why Brooke?”

“What?” Vinnie turned his head and looked at him, his brown eyes blood shot. “What?”

“You knew her. You went to her Communion. Her birthday parties. She and the Cerullos—they’re family. Why Brooke?”

It was a horrible ache in his chest, in his head, a rage coursing through his blood. Blood he shared with the animal locked in his cell. He had to know. He had to understand how someone he’d known all his life could hide this part of him.

“You really wanna know?” Vinnie looked back up the ceiling. “I mean, Dante, if you really wanna know, I’ll tell you.”

Dante closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Yeah, Vin. I really wanna know.”

“I thought it would be like the first time.” Vinnie’s voice turned slightly wistful. “You know the first time you’re with a girl, and it’s everything you pictured? Everything you fantasized about? I kept trying to figure out why it was never right.”

Oh, God. Dante’s stomach pitched, but he kept his features even. “That’s what you always told them. It was never right.”

“You didn’t know Elizabeth back then. You should get some pictures.” Vinnie laughed, a slow, smooth chuckle like they were trading stories in a bar. “She was hot. I saw her when she first moved here that summer. High cut shorts, low cut tops. Oh, man. She had a way of smiling at you—”

Jesus Christ. He knew from Elizabeth’s file that Vinnie was waxing poetic about a fifteen-year-old girl. “Why didn’t you just ask her out?” he forced himself to ask.

“Thought about it. But I figured her old bat of a grandmother wouldn’t like it. Would tell her no. I’m not that much older than her, but you know how some bitches are about that shit.”

“That doesn’t explain Brooke—”

“For months, I followed her around, waiting for an opening. Hoping she’d look at me, that she’d give me that smile—but that night at the movies—I saw her dress. She wanted it, man. Dressed in that slutty red dress, mmm….”

Bile rose in his throat, but Dante swallowed hard. He needed to hear it. He needed to hear him say it, to admit it. “Get to Brooke—”

“I thought about going after Elizabeth again. Followed her a couple of times, but she never went anywhere alone at dark again. So, I tried to find someone else. Someone who looked like her. I followed them, just like her. They had her hair—and you know, if they stopped at the fountain—it was a sign that it meant to be.”

Vinnie sighed, almost sadly. “But it was never right. They never smelled right. Their hair never felt right against my skin. I thought…I thought maybe I had to know her. I had to want her. When I saw Brooke at the theater, I saw her go into the park, and man, I just knew it would be right. I knew it would feel good. And I knew I’d be her first. That would make it special. Like it was with Elizabeth.”

Oh, God. Vinnie had followed Brooke on purpose. Had known—had intended it—

“How’d you know—” Dante had to struggle to force the words. “How’d you know you’d be—”

“I caught her once with the Graziano girl.” Vinnie grinned, sat up and leaned back against the wall, his bruised and torn cheek looking grotesque. “She was a lesbo. Never drove stick, you know?” He shook his head. “Maybe part of me wanted to make her understand what she’d been missing—”

“I read her statement, Vinnie. You beat her. Like the others.”

“Brooke—I figured out what I’d been doing wrong with Brooke.” Vinnie nodded, as if he’d answered some philosophical mystery. “All those girls—it didn’t matter if they were virgins. If they stopped at the fountain. If they were young or brunette. Valentine’s Day didn’t work. Even if I knew them. It would never be right. It would never be as good as the first time.” He got to his feet, limped closer to the cell wall, to Dante. “It needed to be her.”

Dante swallowed hard. “So that’s why you went back. Why you went after Elizabeth Webber.”

“She’s my soulmate.” Vinnie sighed happily. “She doesn’t understand that yet. But she will. One day.” He looked at Dante. “Sorry about Brooke. I should have figured it out a long time ago. That’s on me.”

“Yeah.” Dante’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yeah, that’s on you.”

He turned and stalked out of the holding area, straight down the hall to the bathrooms and into one of the stalls. And then he threw up.

When he’d finished, cleaned his mouth out, and could think clearly again, he pulled out the recorder he’d stowed in his pocket. He pressed the stop button, rewound it, and then played. When he heard the beginning of his conversation with Vinnie start to play, he stopped it again. He didn’t know if this would be admissible, but if Vinnie tried to back out of his deal, maybe Scott could use it as leverage.

Dante slid down against the tiled bathroom wall, pressed the recorder to his forehead, and didn’t even bother to wipe the tears as they stained his cheeks.

**Port Charles University: Campus Center**

Lulu dropped her bag down next to Dillon at their usual table and frowned at him. “You’re here.”

“Yep.” Dillon didn’t look up from the reading response he’d been trying to finish for the last hour. “I had class this morning. And another in about an hour—”

“Yeah, I know your schedule, dink.” She tugged out her own laptop, scowling at the notebooks and folders that came with it. She’d promised her aunt she’d go to college, make her mother proud, but man, academia was not her thing. “I mean, why are you here today?”

“Because sitting at home wasn’t going to change anything.” Dillon looked at her. “Mom’s in from New York, and she and Grandfather are figuring out how to spin this so Ned can get elected—”

“Ugh, really?” Lulu wrinkled her nose. “But—”

“That’s how the Quartermaines cope with tragedy. Some people cry in each other’s arms, we plot to take over the world. Don’t make that face, Lu. Spencers are just as crazy.”

“Yeah, fair play.” She waited a beat. “Have you seen Brooke’s mom yet?”

“No. She’s at the hotel, and Ned was leaving to see her when I left for class.” Dillon cracked his knuckles. “Lu—”

“The thing is, Dillon, even though we’ve known each other for five minutes and have been dating for thirty seconds, I know you.”

He met her eyes. “And—”

“And maybe the rest of the Quartermaines plot to take over the world, but you don’t. You live your life. You go back to work. To your movies.”

“Sounds normal to me—”

“Hey. Dillon—” She put a hand in front of the screen to force him to turn, to really focus on her. “I get it. I did the same thing when my family fell apart last year. I pretended nothing was happening. And eventually, everything slid back the way it was supposed to be, and my mom is coming home. I just—I don’t know. I wanted you to know that you’re not invisible to me. That I see you. That I get you. And if you want us to just sit and study and go to class like we do every other day, then okay.”

“That’s what I want, Lu. I just want to finish this thing, go to class, and—” Dillon exhaled slowly. “I think Brooke killed herself, Lu. I think that’s what made her take all those pills. I think she remembered him, and she wanted it to go away. She couldn’t live with it.”

“Maybe,” Lulu said, softly.

“And just maybe, if I’d been a better friend to her—if I hadn’t treated her like such a pain in the ass when she moved here, instead of taking those pills—maybe she would have called me.” He sat back in the hard, plastic chair. “It’s not—it’s not my fault that any of this happened, but you know, it’s a little on me that she didn’t feel like she could turn to anyone.”

“Maybe we all could have done more when she moved up here. I could have called before I went to London,” Lulu said. “I mean, I knew her, too. Dillon, you’re not the only one who bailed because she wasn’t friendly. Me, Maxie, and Georgie—we’ve known each other all our lives. And we used to play with Brooke when she visited Ned. We knew her, too. So, if this is on you, it’s on us.”

She waited a moment. “The thing is that even if we had been best friends, even if we’d all been like a family, she might not have called. Because all the friends in the world doesn’t change the fact that maybe she knew the guy who raped her, that it was someone she’d known her whole life. She might have taken the pills anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“And no matter how close we might have been, we would always have thought we could have done more. That’s just who you are, Dillon. And it’s hard to accept that maybe we couldn’t save Brooke.”

Lulu straightened, took a deep breath. “So maybe we should try to help people like her. We could do some shifts at a suicide hotline or something. Maybe you could talk to your brother about doing a charity thing for rape victims. I don’t know. My brother might have some ideas, too.”

“Yeah.” Dillon’s chest felt a bit easier as he looked at Lulu. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now, leave me alone because I was supposed to read all of this stupid book by my next class, and I have like twenty minutes to find an online reading guide.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Elizabeth stepped just inside the penthouse door and stared at the sofa where, less than twenty-four hours earlier, her rapist had attacked her again.

“We should have gone to the condo,” Jason said. He set her duffel bag down. “Let me just pack a few things—we’ll go now—”

“No—” Elizabeth touched his arm. Looked at him. “No. The whole point of telling Scott I wanted to plead out the case was I needed this to be over. And now…in a few days, when he goes for his arraignment, it will be.”

She looked at the sofa, took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yesterday was bad. I was terrified. I made it out. I fought back, and I won, you know?” Elizabeth turned to frame his face with her hands. “This is your home—”

“It’s just a place. We can go anywhere—”

“I’m not letting Vinnie Esposito steal one more thing from me, Jason. We—” She turned around, gestured at the window. “You remember last year? When we stood there, and I talked about the yachts in the harbor—”

“Yeah.”

Elizabeth whirled back around, a grin on her face. “I remember the way you asked me about it—you asked me if I wanted a boat like one of those—and I thought—you know, I wondered if I said yes, if you’d go buy me one.”

Jason smiled now, warmth and humor back in his eyes. “I might have. I liked seeing you here. I did _not_ like Zander. I should have shipped him to a safe house or locked him in his room, but I—” He hesitated. “You’re right. This is just a place.”

“I like the view from this penthouse. I always have. Those windows look out over the water, and it’s not that different from the view at Vista Point. Sometimes when I stand here, I think about being up there with you. We can remember the bad things that happened here, but I don’t want to do that.”

She gripped the sides of his leather jacket and smiled up at him. “This is the place where we talked about names for our baby, and where you almost offered to buy me a yacht. We played pool here. We’ve made love in that bed. I’m going to decorate one of the spare rooms so our child has a place of his own. This is our home. And if we decide to move one day, it’s going to because _we_ decided to. Not because of bad memories.”

Elizabeth leaned up to press her lips against his, tugging him closer. “We could go upstairs now—the cops said they cleaned the carpet—”

Jason broke the kiss with a groan— “You’re really mentioning the cops right now? And Monica said bed rest.”

“Can you think of a better reason to stay in bed?” Elizabeth grinned, winding her arms around his neck. “Because I can’t.”


	31. Chapter Fifty

_I am here, I am here_  
_I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear_  
_I know that I'll be ready when the devil is near_  
_I am here, I am here_  
_All of this wrong, but I'm still right here_  
_I don't have the answers, but the question is clear_  
\- I Am Here \- P!nk

* * *

_Tuesday, November 4, 2003_

**General Hospital: Hospital Room**

Election Day in Port Charles was a cold and blustery one as winter weather made a surprising appearance—almost as surprising as the birth of Morgan Stone Corinthos, two weeks before his due date. Carly was just grateful she’d sent in her vote for the mayor by absentee ballot the week before.

No way in hell was she going to miss her chance to shove Garrett Floyd out of office.

The birth was relatively easy, and Carly allowed Sonny to be there with her while their son came into the world. She was still staying with her mother, still unsure as to what her marriage was going to look like once the trial—slated to begin in a week—was over.

But Sonny looked nearly like his old self as he beamed at his son and showed off Morgan to Bobbie and to Michael, who was eager to be a big brother. Dr. Meadows proclaimed Morgan to be perfect, which Carly already knew.

Her son was her miracle baby that had helped her survive a nightmare and it was her job to make sure he had the best life possible.

“I want you to come home,” Sonny told her when Bobbie had taken Michael home and Morgan was laying peacefully nearby, dozing off.

“We talked about this, Sonny,” Carly murmured. She shifted, her epidural fully worn off. “After the trial.”

“I know, I know. I just—” He looked over at the portable crib where Morgan’s tiny fist was waving in the air. “I just want my family back. The way we were before any of this happened.”

“I know.” Carly reached up to touch his cheek. “I know. But we can’t go back. We can only go forward. And right now, I’m not sure if we can do that.”

Sonny felt a bit more tense, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay. Can you turn on the television? WXPC is going to have the election results starting at six, and I don’t want to miss the moment Floyd is gone.” She winced as she shifted again. “Did Jason call?”

“Yeah, he and Elizabeth are on their way. They had a doctor’s appointment first.” Sonny leaned down to touch Morgan’s soft baby skin. “But no one wants to miss that asshole getting thrown out of office.”

**Port Charles Hotel: Renaissance Room**

The Ashton campaign was throwing an election night party, and Dillon was there to support his brother even though everyone knew Ned was going to win. The polls had put Ned ahead for the first time shortly after the press conference and Vinnie Esposito’s arrest, but in the month since, they had opened up a gulf so wide that it would take a miracle for Floyd to win.

But this was Port Charles, so Dillon was prepared for anything.

He’d invited Lucas, Felix, Maxie, and Kyle, and of course Lulu. He’d left Georgie off the invitation list, so he wasn’t expecting anyone to show up. They all did.

“You really voted for Ned, even though he’s going to fire your stepdad?” Felix asked Maxie as they settled at the one of the large round tables set up. He eyed the plate of hors d’oeuvres as a waiter passed them. He looked at Maxie with raised brows. “He’s not mad you’re here tonight either?”

Maxie shrugged. “I’m sure he’s not thrilled, but I’m not gonna make important decisions to be sentimental. One of us has to be a rational adult, and apparently, it’s me. Georgie decided to vote for Floyd.” Maxie rolled her eyes. “Her first vote as a registered voter and she threw it down the drain.”

“How do you know who she voted for?” Lulu asked, leaning forward.

“I heard her talking to Mom about it when we got home. She said she felt like she needed to support Mac. Whatever. Ned is going to be a better mayor.” Maxie popped an olive in her mouth.

“I’d drink to that,” Lucas said, craning his neck, “but all of these people know exactly how old I am.”

“Hey, celebratory party at the pool house?” Lulu asked Dillon. “I can make some calls and pick up something to celebrate with.”

“Hey, let’s not celebrate just yet.” Dillon reached for a glass of water. “You never know in this town.”

Across the room, Alexis worried. When Ned had started this run for mayor, she hadn’t really expected him to win. He’d gotten into the race late, Floyd was a popular incumbent—but after the serial rapist case had blown up in everyone’s face, it was clear that Ned was going to be the next mayor.

And it had occurred to her last night that she was now a liability for him—her daughter was a liability—a secret that a political enemy would love to discover. She fretted as Ned watched the election results on the large television they’d set up for the events, as it inched closer to eight and the official close of the polls—the earliest time the race could be called.

“Sorry,” Lois said, as she retook her seat next to Ned. “Sonny called me to let me know Carly had the baby.”

Olivia started, looking at her oddly—as did everyone else at the table. “When did you get friendly with Sonny Corinthos again?” she demanded. “You haven’t talked to him in years.”

“I saw him when I came up last month, after the arrest.” Lois frowned at her friend. “We reconnected. Don’t worry, Ned. We’re not married anymore so no one is going to complain—”

“I’m not,” Ned said dryly. “I think Sonny might be more popular than the PCPD at this point—”

“That’s not hard,” Jax muttered. “So, Carly had the baby.”

“She did.” Lois looked at Olivia who was still frowning. “Liv, what’s your problem? I know you haven’t talked to Sonny since he left the old neighborhood—”

“I forgot you grew up with him, too,” Ned told Olivia who just sighed.

“I did, but he was closer with my cousin, Connie.” Olivia shifted, looked around. “I think I need to go check on something in my office.”

She got up and left without another a word. Lois twisted in her chair and watched her leave. “Almost twenty-five years later, and she’s still mad that her cousin stole her boyfriend. Liv went away for almost a year to stay with relatives in Buffalo after Connie and Sonny hooked up. But Sonny got his in the end—Connie broke his heart and went away to college.”

“Sounds like a woman I’d like,” Jax said, with a broad grin.

“But it worked out for Liv, too,” Lois said, with a shrug. “She met Dante’s father and now she has that beautiful boy—” She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face. “Anyway. She’s still sensitive about it.”

“Oh, look they’re going to call the election,” Alexis said, pointing her finger at the screen.

**PCPD: Commissioner** **’s Office**

Mac had already largely packed up his office. The new mayor would take office on December 1, but everyone knew that Mac would be the first casualty. Floyd had all but abandoned him, and Mac had done his best to stay under the radar since Esposito’s arrest a month earlier.

He sat in his office, watching the election returns on a small television. He glanced up when Taggert and Scott came in, both looking disheveled, Taggert carrying a six pack of beer. “They’ve called the election,” he said.

Scott grimaced, looked at the screen. “Well, it was nice working with ya.” He sat on the sofa. “I wonder who they’ll get to replace you.”

Taggert offered Mac a bottle of beer. Mac looked at him. “We’re off duty, and what’s Ned gonna do? Fire you?”

Mac took it, twisted off the cap, then looked at Scott. “Haha. Very funny. Kelsey was back at work today, wasn’t she?”

“I tried to talk her out of it. Told her to take a few more weeks, but she’s determined to make sure I don’t screw up.” He hesitated. “I’m going to make her second chair on Lansing. Ease her back into things, help her run Major Crimes more closely.”

Taggert scowled as Floyd came on the screen to give his concession speech, looking wan and exhausted. “How’s that going? It hasn’t been in the papers lately.”

Scott took one of the beers Taggert was offering. “Nothing to report. Ever since he lost his bid to get Sonny’s medical records, he hasn’t done anything but the bare minimum for this trial.”

“Maybe he’s hoping Carly and Liz will fall apart on the stand,” Taggert said. “He’s in for a rude awakening if that’s it. He might be able to talk himself out of the drugging charges, but there’s no way to talk away those videos of him going into the panic room and Carly and Elizabeth both testifying to the kidnapping and finding her—”

“I don’t know. I just—” Scott leaned over to dig his cell phone out of his pocket as it rang. “Baldwin—” He closed his eyes. “How in the _fuck_—”

He listened for a long moment, then let loose another string of profanity before flipping the phone shut and almost throwing it.

“Well.” Scott set the beer down. “That was the service monitoring Lansing’s ankle monitor. It was deactivated about ten minutes ago.”

“God, damn it.” Taggert surged to his feet. “I’ll call Crimson PD—”

“I’ll put out an APB,” Mac said as he started for his desk.

“I’ll go give Carly and Elizabeth the bad news.” Scott grimaced. “Better put them on high alert.”

**Luke** **’s: Bar**

An election party was also in full swing at Luke’s club. When the results were announced, the crowd cheered, and the party only got more raucous. The live band that had been hired was keeping the crowd happy while Claude kept the drinks flowing.

His parents would be home in another week, his grandmother was currently dancing up a storm with his aunt Amy, but Lucky couldn’t bring himself to be quite as happy as everyone else in Port Charles.

And he wasn’t alone, as his two best friends sat with him at the bar, both of them trying to make the same decision as he was.

Should they keep plugging away at the PCPD? Or was it time to move on? After almost five months on the job, Lucky wasn’t sure it was what he wanted to do. He liked the part where he helped people, and he was glad he’d been able to help put together the case against Vinnie. He knew Dante and Cruz had worked hard on Carly’s kidnapping.

But the PCPD seemed more hopeless than ever.

“We could get a PI license,” Dante suggested. He grimaced. “Or I could go home to Bensonhurst, but it makes you wonder if cops are like this all over the place.”

Lucky hesitated and then straightened as he saw Kelsey winding her way through the crowd, scanning it. He held up a hand and she joined him behind the bar, brushing a kiss against his lips. “Hey, you. Sorry I’m late. Are you guys talking about who might be the next commissioner?” she asked.

“No. You want a drink?” Lucky asked.

“Dr. Jones finally cleared me, so pour me the biggest gin and tonic you can.” She reached for a pretzel. “I think Ashton has to go outside of the city. Bring in new blood. I liked Mac, but he made a lot of mistakes. I definitely think it’s time for a change.”

“So, you’re staying?” Dante asked, frowning. “Even after—”

“Am I thrilled I needed brain surgery because a cop I worked with turned out to be a psychopath?” Kelsey shrugged. “No. But we did the job. We solved the case.” She looked at the Dante. “I know it’s hard on you—he turned out to be family—”

“Yeah, well…he was the least favorite son of my mother’s least favorite sister, so I guess it could have been worse.” Dante shifted. “What about all the crap with Floyd and Mac—”

“It sucks, but it came to light, didn’t it? Because you guys didn’t stop working. Because Taggert didn’t stop working. This isn’t what I thought my first job would be like, but you know what?”

She turned and twisted to gesture at the television screen still carrying the election news. They were rerunning a clip of Elizabeth from the press conference. “At the end of the day, the asshole who hurt her? _We _get to put him on ice for the rest of his life. And next week, we’ll slam the door on her ex. I can live with that.” She turned to Lucky, who grinned down at her. “I think we did okay, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we did okay.” He kissed her again. “I guess we’ll stick with it.”

Cruz’s beeper started to vibrate. He scowled and looked down at it, then pulled out his phone as a text message came through. He was the only one of them on call. “Hold that thought. Taggert just sent a 911. Lansing jumped bail.”

**General Hospital: Hallway**

Bobbie closed the door, leaving Sonny and Carly alone with their son and rejoined Jason and Elizabeth in the hallway. “So, does that make you even more excited for _your_ little one?” Bobbie asked with a light teasing smile.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure it’s possible to be more excited.” She linked hands with Jason. “I just wish my divorce was final. Ric decided to fight it, so it’ll be another month. Maybe two.”

“But it’ll be over,” Jason told her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drew her in close. “And the trial will be over.”

“With any luck, we can all be moving on by Christmas,” Bobbie said with a smile. She stepped forward and wrapped them both in a tight hug. “Thank you so much. Without the two of you, I don’t know what would have happened to my grandson and daughter. You brought her home.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Elizabeth said. She kissed Bobbie’s cheek. “We worked together, and you know, we make a hell of a team.”

“Jason would be happier if we had less drama for a while,” Bobbie said, with pointed look at Jason’s pained expression.

“He’s stopped taking my pulse every other hour,” Elizabeth reported with a broad smile up at him. “Now it’s only every three hours—which is what Kelly recommended.” The last month had been so good—she’d gone home for bed rest and then Jason had surprised her by taking her to a cabin he’d rented in Niagara Falls. Just the two of them for five whole days.

She was starting to believe that this time, they were going to get it right and get the happy ending they deserved. She smiled up at him, and he grinned at her when he caught her looking.

The elevator doors slid open and Scott hurried out, looking unhappy. Bobbie scowled. “Scott Baldwin, don’t you _dare_ come over here with bad news—”

“It can’t be helped. Morgan, do you have security on Lansing?” Scott demanded shortly.

Jason hesitated, exchanged a look with Elizabeth whose face drained of color. “We have guys on the house where he’s staying—so does Nikolas Cassadine, but—what happened?”

“His ankle monitor has been deactivated. Crimson Pointe PD searched the house—he’s not there.” Scott clenched his fists. “Lansing jumped bail. We don’t know where he is.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> **Author's Note**
> 
> Wow. So I'll have more to say at a later date about how much writing this book meant to me and what's next but I just have to say that I never thought I'd get this far. Book 2 is done and it's probably the most ambitious project I've planned that I actually finished. It's a complicated ensemble that I think worked really well. I had a lot of things going on and I like to think it got wrapped up at the end.
> 
> Obviously, I wanted to leave all of our characters in a good place while setting up Ric. Originally, I was going to deal with Ric in the second story and close the book on the whole thing. But then the serial rapist story got more and more complicated and intricate (at least for me) and having written Book 1, Ric just deserved more space. Elizabeth and Carly deserved more space to deal with it, particularly Carly who basically disappears in this story.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this story. I'll be back in February with For the Broken Girl, then Fool Me Twice in the summer and probably Book 3 next fall. Have a great holiday season!


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